The Hollow Men
by PrettyPrettyPlease
Summary: "I was so scared of losing you and you were so upset with me for it."
1. We Are The Hollow Men

Hola. We meet again. It's taken forever but I've finally gotten to a point where I can start posting this multi-chappie fic! Woo! The chapter titles are taken from lines in T.S. Eliot's, _The Hollow Men _poem. I thought it kind of related but it really had no deep effect in the story. I do consider this chapter one but it has the makings of a prologue, in that it's kind of setting things up and showing a bit where they are in their relationship and how they got there. The last section (the one void of italics) is present day.

I do not own Inception.  
xxxxxx

**Chapter1- We Are The Hollow Men.**

"_I'd just thought I'd let you know I've got a job in Australia starting Thursday." Arthur said stepping into her flat._

"_Oh, do they need an architect?" She said hopefully._

"_Actually, I already signed someone on for that."_

"_Oh."_

"_I thought it'd be wise if we had some separation."_

_Ariadne's eyebrows furrowed, "You want separation?"_

"_Yes. Even coworkers—" He sat his briefcase down by the door._

"_We are not coworkers…This isn't how you treat your coworker. Dinners, walking me home…Unless you call Yusuf periodically to tell him you miss him too. Or devise plans to dream with Eames alone so you two can kiss in secret."_

_Arthur gritted his teeth and tried avoiding her eyes._

"_Sounds to me like we're more of a—"_

"_Don't say it." Arthur demanded._

"_Couple." She enunciated just to tick him off._

"_We're not a couple."_

"_We could be."_

_They kept chiding back and forth, "You're too young for me."_

"_Not by much."_

_He knew he'd have to do some lying to get her off his back. Ariadne was a persistent woman. "You're too inexperienced. Too immature."_

"_Looks like someone's chivalry just died…" It bruised her ego a bit but she kept at him._

"_You're a nice girl, Ariadne but that's all you are. A little girl. There are millions of them just like you everywhere."_

_It was silent between them for a few moments. The weight of what he'd just said bared its teeth into her. A little more than hurt, she was livid. A little girl? She was twenty three…that's not a little girl no matter how short and demure she was. Arthur was one of the few men who had ever respected her as an equal and now he was turning into one of those biting, demeaning, chauvinists. So she caught him off guard, bit into his flesh with her words as well, "Then why are you in Paris?"_

_It did the trick. He mentally fumbled over excuses. Arthur almost found a believable one too when she'd continued her accusations. "You don't live here. And the last job you did was with me. In Vancouver. Three months ago. There is no reason for you to be in Paris."_

"_I was passing through."_

_She lifted her eyebrow in that way that made him both furious and nervous, "It takes you a month to pass through? And even then you have no obligation or excuse to spend that time with me."_

_Caught red handed. Pinned to the wall. In a last ditch effort he conjured up the worst thing he could say to her, "I don't want to be a couple with you."_

_And knowing he was an asshole and a coward and a liar she took that idea, ran with it and threw it in his face."Ok." She shrugged her shoulders impassively as he would have done. Ariadne walked to the door and swung it open for him to leave…something he hadn't at all expected. To Ariadne, though, if he wanted a way out, she would give it to him. No point in wasting time and falling further for someone who would only run when things turned serious. "Go ahead, Arthur. Go to Australia and drown in your OCD and your files and the million Sheilas just like me…and I'll see how many college boys I can screw before I get my degree. Win, win. And you don't have to worry about contacting me for…ever." She smiled and brushed pass him to plop on her couch and turn on the tv._

_Arthur stood stunned. He absentmindedly picked up his suitcase and stared at the back of her head. He expected her to turn around and keep nagging at him for them to be together. Honestly he'd rather have suffered that then her blatant disregard for it all. Like she could care less. _

_She was always aware of his presence and she still felt him in her house. Putting on a mask of boredom and sarcasm first, she turned and addressed him over her shoulder, "I know you're perfect and everything…but I don't think you can teleport just yet, so…you might want to start walking Daddy Long Legs. Australia's kinda far." _

_Ariadne stared blankly at the tv and waited to hear the click of her front door closing before she allowed herself to be upset about his rejection._

_xxxxxx_

_Three raps at her door. Her friend Clarisse wasn't supposed to show up for another thirty minutes and it always pissed Ariadne off that she was early. Every single time they did something. Ariadne was always left throwing herself together because of Clarisse's impatience. The top half was ready: Hair, beanie, sweater, scarf. The bottom half: sweatpants and bunny slippers…not so much. She opened the door, "Clarisse! Je le jure devant Dieu—"_

_Dark apologetic eyes, gelled hair and a stony clean shaven face stared back at her._

_He felt a gust of wind as the door shut in his face. He breathed in and out slowly and knocked three more times. Her face begrudgingly appeared after a long pause and she spat, "What?"_

"_I'm a Point Man."_

_She rolled her eyes and talked down to him, something she'd never the courage to do before. It was quite liberating. "Very good, Arthur…" Ariadne commended him facetiously. _

_Arthur let it roll off his back and continued, "That means I'm capable of and _will_ hunt down and kill every single man that touches you while I'm gone."_

_She leaned against the doorframe, not impressed, "I hardly think it's your place to murder my long line of suitors."_

_Again he deflected her sarcasm with his serious tone, "Wait for me, Ariadne."_

"_Ok, what ditch did you dump Arthur's body in?"_

_The Point Man took a deep breath and gently rested his hand on her shoulder, "I'm serious. You know I was lying through my teeth on Tuesday. We both know I have feelings for you… And as irresponsible as I know they are, I can't control them anymore."_

_She shifted but the sarcasm seemed to drip away. Ariadne kept quiet and let him elaborate, "Being together…it's not smart. It's not safe. And it sure as hell won't be easy. But I don't want you seeing other men and I don't want to meet other women…You're the only one worth the risk. So, if you want me to take it, I will." It was a statement, however, an underlying question was there in his eyes._

_Ariadne looked back over her shoulder inside her house, "You should probably go. You don't want to miss your flight."_

_Arthur swallowed. Prepared to turn around and leave when she put her hand on his shoulder, "So, are you going to call me when you land, or…?"_

_He smirked, "If you want me to, yes."_

_She began tweaking his lapel and flattening it out, "I mean, it'd be nice to know your plane didn't crash on the way."_

_He promised, "I'll call you first thing."_

_The Architect then fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeve, "And maybe you could call me while you're there, too. So I don't forget you and start searching for a suitable replacement."_

"_You will do no such thing," he challenged, growing ever closer to her face._

"_I don't know," Ariadne shrugged coyly, "Two months is an awfully long time to be apart."_

"_You haven't heard the saying?" Ariadne found herself pressed against the doorframe. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." Soft and luxurious, his lips covered hers._

_After pulling away she joked, "Well, go then."_

_Arthur turned and descended a couple steps. Turned again, "One more," he pecked her lips sweetly and then merrily went on his way. _

_xxxxxx_

_It was a long two months in Australia; The majority of their official relationship had been spent on the phone together. What better way to get to know each other than to talk, though, right? Sure they hadn't been able to kiss or hold hands or even see each other but that only made their connection stronger on a mental and emotional level. Arthur was more than ready to make up for lost time; he hoped she would be too. _

_Ariadne's eyes felt glued shut. She pried them open to wince at her clock and sneer. Begrudgingly she sat up, letting her eyes close one more second. She makes herself go to the door and crack it open._

"_Any men I have to kill?"_

"_Arthur!" She jumped to hug his neck and succumbed to a yawn as she pulled away. "It's 2 am…I thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow; I was going to meet you at the airport."_

"_I changed flights. I tried to wait but—" The adorable way she rubbed the sleep out of the corner of her eye prompted his word choice, "There's nothing quite like missing you."_

_Ariadne laughed into another yawn, "Is it just…pure adoration?" _

"_Must be." He gently pushed his way into her flat and closed the door behind him, "Have you missed me?"_

_A little more awake now, the Architect ran her hand through her hair, "Of course."_

_Arthur leaned in for a kiss but she blocked it, cupping her hand over her mouth. "Don't kiss me!" She muffled through it, "I have morning breath."_

"_I don't care." He gave her that smirk she'd been trying to remember and removed her hand so he could bestow the long awaited kiss of return. He lost it when he felt her arms snaking around his neck and so he deepened. It was well worth the wait to be able to come back to someone so immaculate, even in her pajamas, and be made to feel this way. It was as exhilarating as dreaming, being close to her again. Arthur wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and picked her up to be closer to him, so she wouldn't have to tip toe to kiss him (as cute as it was). A wave of emotion rushed over him and he smiled into her when he felt her bunny slippers brush his arm as she wrapped her legs around his waist. It was all in a chaste manner. The only thing they cared about was the mere presence of each other and the way they could recreate that first peck of theirs over and over just because. In time, he set her down. _

"_How did we survive the past two months again?" She chuckled._

"_Hell if I know." He swayed unnoticeably. Still inebriated from their contact. _

"_You look exhausted…" Ariadne reached up and put one of his fallen hairs back in place with the rest of his gelled head. _

_He reveled in it without letting it show too much. They were still in the fairly early stages of their relationship. Last thing he wanted was to fall all over himself for her too soon and mess everything up. Look too unprofessional, too undone. "It's called a 'red eye' flight for a reason, I suppose."_

_The Architect disappeared into her bedroom. When she resurfaced she held sheets, a blanket and a pillow. "Here. Just sleep on my couch tonight."_

_Arthur being the gentleman suddenly felt like he was intruding. He began to feel uncomfortable, "No, I don't want to be a burden. I'll call a cab and find my hotel."_

_The girl was already readying the couch for him, "It's late Arthur. Just stay."_

_Through more persuasion and big brown eyes batting their lashes at him Arthur agreed to accept her hospitality. "Night, Arthur." She lazily smiled leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom. _

"_Goodnight Ariadne." He adjusted his pillow as she stepped out of view._

_xxxxxx_

"_Amazing work. As always." He ogled her newest creation. A model of level 2: a permaculture village. _

_First, Ariadne looked over at Eames to make sure he wasn't listening then lowered her voice and asked The Point Man, "Amazing enough for a kiss?"_

_His face remained a blank mask, only a hint of smirk playing off his features and only so she alone could see, "I promise you one after work, Ari." _

_She leaned back, surprised, "'Ari?'"_

"_Would you prefer I not call you that?"_

"_No. I like it." He watched her while she picked up the hot glue gun and resumed creating a Penrose staircase on the model. "Now, I just have to find a nickname for you…" She opened her mouth-_

_Arthur laid down the rules straight away, "Not Artie." _

"_Crap."_

_He allowed himself the semblance of a chuckle. _

"_Art? No, I don't like that. Sounds…chopped off." She took the next few minutes to muse over…"Suits R Us...? Tall…? Dark, Handsome?" She laughed._

"_I like handsome." He chided while he handed her another block of foam board. _

"_No. It has to be part of your name, like mine. Thur? OhmyGod, Thor. You can be Arthor…." She shook her head. "Thurry? I don't even know what I'm saying anymore."_

"_Ari, just call me Arthur."_

_Her face scrunched, "But that's not endearing. Everyone calls you Arthur. It's not special."_

"_It is when you say it." Arthur's hand slid just enough to brush one of Ariadne's fingers resting on the table. _

"_Shoot me in the bloody balls. You two are disgusting." Eames teased as he walked by. Their reaction was always the same. Ariadne liked that Arthur would slip and show enough affection for her for others to notice. So when the Forger said things like that and teased Arthur, she always had to stifle a laugh. Arthur, however always wanted to shoot lasers through Eames' skull and would give him the look to prove it. _

_xxxxxx_

_The projections were swarming, there wasn't enough time to make it through Ariadne's maze and extract what they needed to. It was inevitable this job would fail and they'd have Leeholt and Sons Inc. on their tails for doing such a bang up job. The team was readying themselves for the kick, hiding out in a hotel room. _

"_We can still do this."_

_Eames gave her a doubtful look. He didn't want to crush her hopes but the kick was coming in a minute and they were on the other side of the world from the safe. Their lead extractor, Henry, had been shot by projections before he made it there. The guy sucked._

"_I added a shortcut. There's an underground tunnel leading to the bank. I can get there."_

"_There's simply not enough time," Eames shrugged his shoulders and Arthur added, "Especially if you happen to get turned around."_

_She gave them a look, "I know the maze. I designed it."_

_Arthur then declared, "The kick is coming any second and I don't want to risk you missing it." _

"_I won't. Give me your gun." The architect adamantly held her hand out._

"_Ari…"_

"_It's worth a shot!" She turned to Eames desperately, "Eames?"_

_He rolled his eyes, blew air out of his cheeks and said, "Go for it."_

_The building shook. She held out her hand for Arthur's gun expectantly. He gritted his jaw and shook his head. The look he was giving her was like he was never going to see her again and it unnerved her. Took a bite out of some of the confidence she'd just had in herself. Ariadne made brief requesting eye contact with Eames. The forger cleared his throat awkwardly and turned to set some charges for the kick. Believing to have more privacy, Arthur inquired, "What if you don't wake up?"_

"_I will."_

_Hesitantly he put the gun in her hand and she cocked it. Before she turned and sprinted out of the hotel room and down the corridors she brought her lips to his ear and whispered, "But just in case…I love you, Arthur."_

_xxx_

_They'd had to blow the hotel room and kick up without her. She hadn't made it back in time. The kick had come and gone on both levels and they were sitting awake in the train. The four words Ariadne had confessed to him before she slipped out of sight only made waking up without her all the worse. He hadn't said it back. With bated breath, and a tingling in his chest he watched her shoulders rise and fall rhythmically. It was a foreign feeling that had washed over him. Love. He never thought he could feel that. He felt incapable, closed off to even the notion of it. Mal and Cobb had made him afraid of that emotion. He wasn't bold enough to publicly declare it. Cobb wouldn't approve, he'd already been skeptical when Arthur mentioned they'd been seeing each other…often. But Ariadne pulled it out of him. She MADE him want it. There were a few times over the course of this past job where the Point Man thought he might have felt it. Or something like it. But he would never dare confess it to himself, much less the Architect. Even if it was true. Even if he did…love…her. Even if he thought there was a possibility that he was falling…in love…with Ariadne. What he could admit to himself though was that—well, Arthur was never a very religious person. He respected different beliefs and chose to go along with the customs of certain religions but he wasn't big on it-He couldn't say he believed in a fiery hell but he could now say he believed in heaven. And heaven had to be a place on earth. Namely sweet, sweet Paris. Or with more specificity, anywhere the Architect chose to grace with her presence. Arthur was getting in deep over his head. He was drowning in all of these thoughts. All because she had pulled him close and whispered-_

_Gasp. She bolted forward in her seat and tried to calm her breathing. Her hands shot straight for her bishop in her pocket and Arthur shot straight across the aisle to kneel by her side. "Are you—"_

"_I'm ok." She reassured him, "I'm ok."_

_Henry turned around in his seat frantically, "Did you get it? Did you make it?"_

_A smile grew on the Architect's face, proud of herself. No longer on the sidelines, the hero of the job. The extractor. The pivotal hinge of their success. "He's guilty. The money is in the Swiss Bank Account #3739002."_

"_Good on you, Ariadne. You're just determined to be better than Cobb in everything aren't you?" Eames let out a good chortle and high fived her. _

_Mr. Leeholt graced her with an approving nod from across the aisle as well, "Nice work."_

_The girl had been praised by everyone but Arthur. She looked down at the figure in front of her. Arthur had a proud smirk on his face. Not only was she his creatively talented and beautiful—significant other…(that was still kept very private and out of the workplace) but she was his excelling student. He'd taught her the basics of dreaming and she took it and ran with it. A year ago he was telling her what an extractor was and now she was taking the dream sharing world by storm. His Ariadne, capable of anything. For the first time, he kissed her cheek in front of Eames and Henry and the chemist and the client (if he was still looking, Arthur didn't notice). His first public display of affection in his work setting. The first sign of a chink in his armor, the first concrete confirmation to Eames' badgering questions and teasing. The kiss was for everyone to see his pride in her; she earned that small victory. But his next sentence was whispered just for her ears, "I love you too, Ari."_

xxxxxx

"I hate you!" Arthur screamed as a loud, sickening popping sound echoed throughout the room.

He gritted his teeth and dropped the gun to his side, turning his head to look at the Architect. Body purpled with bruises and cuts tarnishing her face. It nauseated him. She met his eyes with swollen, red rimmed, bloodshot eyes of her own. Tears spilled down her face and a sharp pain of guilt and enmity washed over him. Arthur's tears welled up before she turned her head away from him and looked at the slumped figure on the ground. Blood pooling around his head and staining his suit. Succumbing to anguish, she heaved and doubled over as much as the two men holding her back would let her. He heard the screams of two kids wailing for their daddy…and he wanted to kill these people for making him a monster.

"Very good choice, Arthur." Ice cold, blue eyes patronized him and the suited heir lowered his pistol from Ariadne's temple. The gunman lifted the architect's chin to his face and seemed pleased at her emotional state.

"Get your hands off of her." Arthur warned menacingly.

"Shut up." The leader of the operation poised the barrel of his gun in front of Arthur and two henchman restrained the Point Man from behind. The gunman turned back to Ariadne and leaned in close, "It's alright, little architect. No one will miss poor Mr. Charles."

His sadistic grin didn't falter as he pulled away from her and turned to leave his torture chamber. "His name is Dominic Cobb." She spat the correction at him and he whipped around to slap her before she knew what was happening.

"Hey!" Arthur's blood boiled and he attempted lunge at the offender. He flailed around, trying to break free and tear this man limb from limb. Never had so much hate filled his body before.

Robert Fischer ignored the chaos and strolled out of the room like it was a sunny day in the park, "Get his blood off of my floor."

Xxxxxx

Wow. That chapter was mostly italics. Sorry for screwing your eyes up guys :/ Let me know what you think so far! I know it wasn't much of the actual story to go on. If I get a couple reviews, I'll probably update tomorrow. Press the magic button! ;)


	2. Shape Without Form

Sorry it took me a couple weeks to update. Work was getting hectic and finals at my university were killing me. But now I've got some spare time and I plan on using it to update regularly. Thanks to _TessieBird _and _Moviefanatic2.0_

**Chapter2- Shape Without Form**

Arthur was bound to a chair. Sweating. Head hung down. He was losing track of time. Had he been in this chair for hours? Days? The blood from his nose trickled down his chin and splattered on his favorite suit. His left eye was swollen shut and his ears were buzzing.

"Had enough torture yet? It baffles me, the things you do for that homely creature. She's nothing special. How upset you get when we touch her is so amusing."

Arthur glared at Browning. "It's amazing what you'll do if you love someone." He spat the pooling blood from his mouth, "I doubt you or Robert have ever felt that."

Browning's face became one of mock hurt and he rested his hand on his chest, "That gets me right in the core." He dropped the act, "You won't love each other after we're done with you." Arthur pulled at his restraints and Browning continued, "If you really loved her, don't you think you would've gotten her out of here by now? If you _really_ loved her, you wouldn't have left her alone that day…"

Arthur kicked the bottom of the table with so much force it overturned on its side, "Don't _ever _say I don't love Ariadne, you're signing your death warrant." His eyes were as fierce as a tiger, baring its teeth at its threat.

"Ok, touchy subject." Browning drawled and walked closer to the overturned table, disregarding it, "…Let's just hope she's holding up as well as you. She _does _have a petite frame…and that testy mouth of hers does nothing to help her cause…"

Arthur ground his jaw, "Why is Robert doing this to all of us?"

Browning leant over the table edge towards Arthur, "Why did you incept him?"

"I was doing my job." He may have been incarcerated but he would still act superior. The Point Man's chin lifted and he spoke it as a fact.

"Well, consider this a job. It's those guys' job to beat your girlfriend to a pulp. They're just _doing their job_." The older man enunciated each word of his last sentence with a punch to his palm. His eyes picked at Arthur while he mocked him with the gesture Ariadne had surely received.

Arthur let out a low guttural growl and kicked the table. Browning warned facetiously, "Temper, temper. What happened to our calm and collected Point Man?"

The younger of the two slumped in his chair and reprimanded himself for losing his cool. They needed to think they weren't getting to him. He needed to remember his years of training for moments like this. But hours of silence, hours of separation, hours of not knowing exactly where she was weighed down on him. He was supposed to protect her, he promised her he'd protect her. Yet, he didn't know where the hell in this building she would be. What kind of lies were they feeding her? How many times had they struck her? Was she, as described earlier, beaten to a pulp? His strength was vanishing, "I just need to hear her voice." He muttered to himself.

"Gladly."

Arthur's head whipped up. He hadn't expected the old man to be so in tune to Arthur mumbling to himself. Browning switched on the intercom speakers and spoke to the men in another room, "The Point Man wants to hear the Architect's voice."

"Yes sir," The man spoke away from the intercom, "Maybe you'll talk sweet for Arthur, hmm?"

Boom.  
Thud.  
Ariadne's voice was alive with agonizing yells and groans.

"It's ok, Ariadne. You can call out to him…he may not be able to do anything about it but it's the thought that counts!" He heard one man breathlessly shout at her. Arthur could hear her trying to hold in the pain, trying to hold in the whimpers so he wouldn't hear. It infuriated him. She was _still_ trying to be brave for him.

The Point Man suspected that the other side could hear them in return so he called out to her, "It's going to be ok, Ari!"

He heard someone grunt to him in return, "Yeah? What are you gonna do about it, skinny?", He heard another sickening slap of skin, "Come on bitch!" and then what sounded like a sack of potatoes being thrown against the wall.

Finally Ariadne gave in. Her voice sobbed and scratched, "Arthur…"

Arthur's rage couldn't take any more. He scooted the chair back and made a loud scuffing sound. He writhed and ripped the duct tape holding his fists behind his back apart. The Point Man lunged for Browning, "You let her go! You let Ariadne go now!" Arthur could see the fear in the old smart ass' eyes as he grabbed his collar and shoved him against the wall over and over. The old man's hands fumbled behind him to shut off the sound of the girl's voice in an attempt to calm his pursuer but Arthur's hands found Browning's neck and squeezed, "You tell them to leave her alone…" The Point warned, clouding the room with malice.

The door flew open, "Enough."

Fischer's men peeled Arthur (his face emanating satisfaction) off of Browning, the old man slumping and heaving for breath. "You want to see the architect?" He didn't wait for Arthur's steely eyes to answer him, "Let's hope you find her, then." His minions released Arthur with a force and waited for him to sprint out. He warily glared at Robert and went to find Ariadne in this labyrinth. When he was at the door, the bane of his existence called out, "Before something terrible happens…"

xxxxxx

He'd searched every nook and cranny. His heartbeat was rapid, his breathing terse. What would they do her? How could they do all of this to her? Especially, in her condition? If he didn't find Ariadne he might burst. Then down a corridor, two men were leaving and locking a door. He hadn't tried down that way…Arthur headed for that door first. Something was going on inside of that room…He raced down and kicked the door open. He heard a hissing sound, one all too familiar. Ariadne was lying unconscious on a lawn chair in a deep, peaceful rest.

Hooked up to a PASIV.

"Nononononononono" it was a never ending stream running out of his mouth. He couldn't just pull the lead out of her arm, she might get stuck in the dream. How could she pull through this if she were stuck in limbo? He needed to go under and wake her but there was no other lead. This PASIV replica was made for one person. It was a simple dream aid not a shared dreaming aid. He could try tipping her for a kick. Maybe her inner ear sense would still be functional. No matter what he did, he needed to act hastily. Who knows how long she'd already been under and who knows how much Somnacin had entered her system.

_xxxxxx_

_She felt him move to slide out of bed. Ariadne rolled over and grabbed his arm, "Don't go." Sleepily she wrapped his arm back around her and nuzzled into his shoulder, kissing it lightly. Letting the fuzzy feeling of sleep and the muscles of his forearm lull her back into rest._

"_I've stayed in bed as long as I can, Ari…I'm pushing time as it is." His fingers grazed her waist and pulled away._

_She reluctantly let him go, wiped the crusties from the corner of her eye and watched him prepare for the day. Recently showered, he stepped out of their bathroom in a freshly pressed suit to find her sitting up on one arm, leaning her head on her shoulder and looking contentedly at him. "Don't give me that look."_

_Ariadne raised her eyebrows and smiled, "Am I giving you a look?"_

"_Yes." He crossed the room back to kneel in front of her side of the bed, "The 'I'm too beautiful for you to leave me here' look."_

_She teased and shrugged, "It comes naturally." She laid back down with her head rested on her arm. _

"_It's the first meeting with this client, Ari, I have to go." He said apologetically._

"_I know. This past isolation period was so nice, though. I got used to you being home with me every day." _

_Arthur kissed her cheek and lingered there. He loved it when she wore his button ups to sleep in. She made them smell like her. Like strawberries and baby powder and pencil lead. Before bed he would rid himself of his pressed, proper clothing and she would shrug it on over her sports bra. She sighed dejectedly and he pulled away and saw her downcast eyes. "I know you miss it."_

"_It's not fair you get to go off and dream every day." Ariadne nearly pouted. Her youth and vigor seeping through and showing her age._

"_I'm just doing research this time; I'm not going under for the job." He explained._

_Ariadne almost whined, "But you could if you wanted to."_

"_You know I would bring you with me in a heartbeat," He brushed her temple with his calloused thumb, "But you can't go under right now. There's too much of a risk."_

_The architect nodded understandingly albeit a bit disappointed. _

"_We don't know how the Somnacin will affect the baby." His hand rested on her barely protruding stomach and kissed the top of her head._

_xxxxxx  
_

Thanks for reading. I know it was short…but Now we're into the actual story instead of a bunch of short flashbacks! Woo! And Ariadne is pregnant…whaaaaat? At least it's Arthur's. Please review and I'll update as soon as I can

-PrettyPlease.


	3. Shade Without Color

Hey hey. Don't own. Thank you _gracefullyclumsy _ for reviewing and thanks to the people who don't review but still story alert and favorite. And…still a thanks to my silent readers, at least you find it interesting even if you don't let me know you do. Some real unhappy things are fixing to happen:

**Chapter3-Shade Without Color**

She was just in the midst of a foggy cityscape. She was alone, the baby was rolling around in her stomach, pushing against her. It looked like an alien was inside her, taking over. Ariadne wandered aimlessly through the deserted streets. Light blue fog fell over the city to a point where she could barely see her hands in front of her face. And if that wasn't eerie enough, buildings were creaking, calling her name. Water ran down her legs she later realized and all of a sudden the baby was coming. At that, she sprinted through the streets searching desperately for a hospital and screaming for Arthur. Every corner she turned led her back to the same place and Arthur was nowhere near. If he was, she'd be able to feel him and his warmth magnetizing her to him. In an instant, Ariadne was falling rapidly. The ground beneath her had crumbled and the city around her fell into an abyss.

Her body convulsed and her eyes shot open. Ariadne's eyes focused on, "Arthur?" Was he really here? She thought she had been dreaming, maybe? Was she still dreaming? No, Arthur was here. He was too warm and soft as he held her for this to be an extension of that strangeness she'd been in. Arthur was removing her bracelet and sliding the lead out of her, "Where's your totem? Check your totem."

The Architect felt in her pants pocket obediently and wrapped her free hand around the small, comforting weight of her bishop. "How are you in here?"

He kissed her forehead, "They let me come find you. I'm not sure why and I'm not sure I want to know. How long have you been under?"

Her eyes grew with realization. She glanced at the PASIV, the bottles of drugs inside and the puncture on her forearm, "Arthur!" Her voice laced with worry and her hands flew to her barely protruding stomach.

The suited man smoothed her hair and pulled her to him, "It's ok. I'm sure once won't hurt the baby. How long have you been under, do you know?"

Ariadne's head shook frantically, "I don't even remember them putting me under."

"Have you been waking up like this, often?"

"Just today. Or—," Ariadne's face scrunched, "I—I don't know. I don't know what day it is. I don't know how long we've been here."

Arthur stood and held his hands out to assist her, "Are you ok to stand?" She nodded and pulled against his weight to stand herself, "Good, I'm getting us out of here."

"What about James and Philippa? I'm not leaving if they're not."

Arthur sighed and laced his fingers with hers, "I'll do all that I can. You know that."

"Where are they?" Ariadne wondered aloud.

Creak of the door. Squeak of his designer shoes. "That's a good question…" Robert Fischer's blue eyes gleamed in the doorway. Arthur slowly guided her behind him. "They've been asking for you Uncle Arthur. And crying for Auntie Ariadne…"

Arthur felt Ariadne squeeze his arm. "You weren't—thinking of abandoning them, were you?" He prodded and then turned to smile at Ariadne mockingly, "Poor innocent Phoebe and whiny little John." He knew how to pick at Ariadne's temper, her loyalties and new nurturing instinct. He picked up on the way she tightened her grip on Arthur's arm, knowing that Arthur would want her to keep quiet. But he could tell, (_damn_ could he tell) she wanted oh so badly to cross the room and slap him; he could feel it radiating off of her. She wanted so bad to spit out the real identities of the children. To Fischer's disappointment, she bit her tongue. So for a reaction, he taunted further. "They really don't need another pair of people who could care less about them. Their mother would rather jump out a window and plunge to her death than have to take care of them…"

Ariadne saw Arthur's shoulders rise, his body had tensed and his fists were curling and uncurling. She could feel his deep breathing and observed that it took all of his self-control to remain in his spot. She shifted her grip to a comforting hold; she began to rub up and down his arm subtly but soothingly.

"And their father…what a coward. It amazes me how weak and pathetic people can be. He just gave up, just like that. He didn't even fight back; he just resigned himself to the fact that he was a goner and gave up on them."

xxxxxx

_The gun felt heavier than it was supposed to. It hurt to hold it. Arthur's eyes pricked with water that he tried to blink back as he walked towards Cobb. "I'm so sorry."_

_The extractor's face didn't harbor fear or anger. No resentment, no pleading. Just understanding. Understanding and acceptance and comfort, oddly enough. Cobb knew all too well how it felt to be Arthur. To have the woman he loved more than life and a baby he'd do anything for threatened. He saw all the makings of him and Mal in Arthur and Ariadne. Cobb could sense their devotion, their desperation for each other and so shook his head solemnly, "Don't be."_

_Arthur lowered his voice, "I don't know what else to do."_

"_I'd rather you shoot me than my kids…and I'd never ask you to shoot Ariadne. I know you'll make sure they get back to their grandparents safely." His smile was guarded as he was trying his best to ease Arthur's guilt not burden him further._

_Arthur swallowed, "You're my best friend, Cobb. If there were any other way... If I knew I could turn on these guys and get all of us out of here safe and sound, I—"_

"_Tick. Tock." Fischer jeered._

_Cobb looked Arthur in the eye and meaningfully lowered his head, "You would let me do the same were it Mal and an unborn Philippa or James at stake. I don't blame you. I want you to do this." His fatherly tone, his lead extractor tone that gave orders and expected them to be malleably followed gracefully flowed from his mouth. He was giving a look to Arthur that said, 'You be a big boy and do this or so help me God.'_

"_Come on!" yelled Fischer. Like a heckler at a musical or a fan at a football game. _

_Cobb's voice snapped him out of his reverie, "Pull back the hammer." Arthur complied hesitantly. "Put the gun to my head." Arthur shook his head frantically. His hands started shaking faster, his eyes watering and burning. He turned to look at Ariadne for strength but found her own terrified look to only weaken his fervor. "_Now, _Arthur." As Arthur struggled to do so Cobb called lovingly to his kids, "I love you Pippa. I love you James. You two be good for me." _

"_Arthur…no…" He heard Ariadne plead and he sent her a remorseful glance. He couldn't do this. Not in front of her. Not in front of the kids. But he had to. He had to do this for her. He had to do this for the kids. Cobb's kids and his future kid. _

_Cobb coaxed, "Just pretend it's another dream gone wrong. Just pretend you're waking me up." No longer could Arthur keep the tears from falling, they escaped and his hand battled with his mind to slowly rise and hold itself to Cobb's head. "Tell the baby about me."_

"_All the time." Arthur promised._

_Cobb took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His furrowed eyebrows relaxed and he seemed already in another world. He was Zen. Knowing Arthur wouldn't do it of his own accord, Cobb ordered, "Pull it."_

_Bang._

_Cobb no longer stood. Fischer grinned._

"_I hate you!" Arthur screamed as a loud, sickening popping sound echoed throughout the room. _

xxxxxx

Arthur defended his best friend, "He was a brave and noble man. Something you'll never be. He sacrificed his life for his children."

"Sacrifice? If that's what you want to believe, go ahead." Robert chuckled, "But you're the one who pulled the trigger. Sounds more like a murder to me."

Poise left Arthur. "You son of a bitch…" He gaited across the room.

Thud. "Arthur!"

Freeze. The Point Man looked over his shoulder and found her pinned to the wall and an ugly looking weapon pointed at her stomach. "What is that?" He warily inquires.

"A needle. One they frequently use at…abortion clinics I believe." Ariadne pressed herself further against the wall, away from the needle and sucked in her stomach. "But maybe you could do more research on that for me."

Arthur digressed. He held his hands up, voice low and compromising, "Just…get that away from her. Please. And we'll talk."

Satisfaction. "Well, look how quickly that attitude changed…I should have brought that out sooner." His features turned dark, "Come with me or that fetus is soup."

Arthur followed him through the corridors with Ariadne being dragged behind. They were brought into the same open warehouse area where Cobb gave his life. The blood no longer there. Instead, two kids were standing in that spot, their hands duct taped in front of them. As soon as Arthur saw them he asked, "Philippa, James, are you ok?"

They shook their heads but were visibly at ease to see two friendly faces. The moment the guards released Ariadne's wrists, she ran to kneel in front of the children. They both dug their faces into her shoulder. She rubbed James' back and smoothed her hands through Philippa's long blonde hair. "Ari, what's happening?" Philippa's tearstained face pulled away and put its faith into Ariadne's.

Ariadne gripped the little girl's hand lovingly, "I don't know but I promise you we'll be ok."

James then pulled his face from Ariadne's shoulder too and put his hand on her cheek, "Auntie Awi, where's daddy?"

Philippa's voice quivered and she chastised her younger brother, "James, I already told you daddy's gone."

"Gone where?" His innocent eyes questioned the Architect's but she found her mouth dry and no idea how to reply.

"Get the Architect, Damnit! This isn't happy hour." Fischer called and her two guards came strolling towards her. Quickly, Ariadne kissed the top of their heads and Philippa wrapped her arms around Ariadne's waist while James hugged her leg one last time before the children were bound to their spot and Ariadne was dragged back to her previous position. Fischer turned to Arthur and placed the familiar weapon into his hands. "Say bye to Phyllis and Jude and you can say hello to freedom."

Arthur's face hardened and he threw the gun to the ground, "No."

Snap of his fingers. Ariadne's whimper. Her shirt was lifted, and the needle was but a centimeter away from her. "You know, I like to experiment. Don't you wonder what would happen if I didn't just stick that burning liquid into your baby's womb but if I plunged it into your dearest Ariadne's heart instead?" The heir's eyebrow raised.

"I'll kill you. I swear I'll rip your heart out."

Robert rolled his eyes, "Let's not forget who has the control here, Arthur." He gestured to Ariadne helpless against the wall, the needle grazing her skin and then flicked his hand towards the children, bound and gagged, waiting for demise.

The Point Man's defiance fizzled and he turned to bartering, "I'll do anything else. Anything else in the world, Fischer. I'll be your slave. Work for you at your beck and call. I'll beg, cheat, lie, steal…"

The heir shook his head, bored and unexcited, "It's Philippa and James or Ariadne and Baby."

Arthur upped the ante, "Kill me. Let all of them go and kill me however you want. Make it hurt, make it last, whatever your sadistic mind needs to satisfy your revenge. _Please_."

Fischer picked up the discarded gun, pulled back the hammer and shoved it back into Arthur's grasp, "I don't compromise. This is your choice." He snapped his fingers and Browning stepped into the room, threw him a gun of his own.

"Don't make me choose for you."  
xxxxxx

Well my darling couple of readers…**you can help choose**. Philippa and James or Ariadne and Baby? Who do you think Arthur would save? Maybe I'll save all of them through enough persuasion. If I save Ariadne and a kid, would you rather it be James or Philippa? Give me some feedback you guys. "Don't make me choose for you." Hahaha, thank you for reading. I'll see you when I update! Hopefully soon!


	4. Death's Dream Kingdom

Thanks _SinsofToday_ for alerting and _Lazarus76 _for tuning in and reviewing =)

**Chapter4- In Death's Dream Kingdom**

_Sundays. Their lazy days. After a whole week of jobs and marks and stress, the weekends were always savored. Saturdays he would take her anywhere she wanted to go. They would go out to eat. They would do the special romantic outings they did when they first started courting. Then on Sundays, they would lay around in bed. They would lounge around, talk, watch tv, he'd read while she'd draw, they'd cook together. And at dusk begin their Sunday ritual. She'd pick a movie and he'd go find takeout. Always different, always a surprise. He'd also bring home special desserts…Sometimes it'd be a pint of her favorite ice cream, sometimes fresh éclairs, sometimes slices of their own cake from his preferred patisserie down the street. _

_Today was no different. Other than the fact that he'd scoured the internet all day and found a place that would make fresh, all natural, no red dye included strawberry shortcake for them and she'd been pregnantly obsessed with strawberries lately. The actual fruit, strawberry cereal, strawberry pancakes, strawberry syrup in her milk, strawberry ice cream, strawberry jam, strawberry yogurt…you name it. Lord knows, he's had the most difficult time fulfilling that craving free of red dye but he'd managed. She'd be overjoyed at the treat he'd been able to find. In the other bag, were a couple of wedge salads, bowtie pasta and sweet potatoes. _

_Arthur loved pregnant Ariadne. Not that he loved normal Ariadne any less or any more. Then again, the raging hormones hadn't fully set in yet, so that could change. Nothing made him prouder than knowing she was carrying his baby. He'd secretly wanted a little girl…but was getting used to the idea of a little boy. Seeing as Ariadne wanted one so much. She said she could see a little boy in a sweater vest and tie, polished shoes, and curly black hair running around. Arthur agreed but only if the little boy had her eyes. Ariadne wanted the boy to have his daddy's dimples. Arthur wanted him to have her nose. And for the sake of their son Ariadne joked he would need Arthur's height. He stated he wanted him to have her imagination and she said he'd better be as chivalrous as his dad. They cooed and fantasized over little dinosaur pajamas and train sets and little league softball games, she'd insisted he have an art easel from an early age, Arthur never objecting. They were caught between two names: Xavier and Theodore. Ariadne loved Theodore just because she could call the baby her Teddy Bear._

_Arthur was lost in happy thoughts while he travelled the walkway to their shared flat. He mused that he would buy her whatever house she wanted or better, he'd pay for her to design and build a house once the baby was a toddler and needed more space. He didn't feel the room they pegged to turn into a nursery big enough for his child to be able to roam around and express himself or herself creatively once he or she had grown. If they got Ariadne's curiosity, by the time they could crawl they'd be everywhere and all over everything...Arthur couldn't wait. He unlocked the front door and threw his keys on the ring. He called out to his baby's mother, sitting on the couch, "Hey, Ariadne, could you help me with this?"_

_When she turned, he tensed. His heart exploded. Her brown eyes held apology and duct tape sealed her mouth. He dropped the food on the floor. Forgetting about the delicacies. The Point Man acted quickly, reached in his holster for his gun and rushed towards her. _

_He halted mid-step when a familiar face popped up from behind the couch and held a gun to the Architect's head, "Uh-uh-uh. Not so fast."_

_Arthur held his hands up cooperatively and set the gun down silently on the table. The game began. Arthur's face turned stony and cool, "Who are you?"_

_Robert Fischer clicked his tongue and folded his arms, "Let's not waste time and pretend you don't know exactly who I am. And who _you_ are. You helped Dominic Cobb trespass my thoughts." _

"_I did not." He answered, almost bored. "You must have me confused. I don't know who this Don… whatever his name is, is. I'm a private accountant." Nice move._

"_And she-?" The intruder prodded._

_Arthur never missed a beat, "Teaches art classes from here. She's my cousin's best friend. Just moved to Paris, my cousin asked if I'd help her out until she got on her feet." Check._

_Ariadne kept her eyes straight forward and avoided looking at Arthur. They'd talked about what they'd do if something like this happened. They couldn't show any attachment other than humanly concern. She knew he'd break his façade if she looked at him and vice versa. _

"_Cousin's best friend?"_

_Arthur nodded seeming put out by this misunderstanding. Fischer broke into laughter, "There's one bedroom in this place… And a freaking ring on her finger! Either you're lying or she's a two-timing whore…" Checkmate._

_Arthur held himself without falter, he only allowed his nostrils to flare unnoticeably at the insult to Ariadne. He stared impassively at Fischer…and finally the opponent rolled his eyes and muttered, "Ok."_

_The duct tape was ripped off her mouth, "Ariadne here has already given you guys away and messing with you just gets increasingly annoying." _

_With a snap of his fingers two men emerged and went for him from behind. Being agile, he ducked and punched one in the face, he moved to kick the other and heard the sickening slap of skin. He saw Ariadne's head turned and Robert's hand outstretched and stopped. Let them hold his arms. _

"_I'm calling upon you today because I need a little help punishing the Cobbs for Dom's asinine choices."_

"_No." The sound of Ariadne's firm protest surprised everyone in the room._

_Robert grabbed her chin and roughly turned her face to his, "Unfortunately, I wasn't talking to you, Sweetheart. You're just here for motivation." Ariadne forced her head out of his grasp with a scowl on her face. She met Arthur's warning gaze and tried to regain her composure._

"_Now Dom is a pitiful man…I worry he won't even make it until I get you there. And his kids…Philpotts and Joe…"_

_Ariadne corrected, "Phillppa and James."_

_Arthur turned his head and sent disapproving eyes her way. Thankfully, the former mark hadn't been affected by her and waved his hand dismissively as he continued, "With their mother dead and their emotionally unstable father never around…it'll be easy to break them."_

_Now Arthur has had practice in this for as long as his dream sharing career had been in motion. He knew how to bottle his emotions and let what pursuers say go through one ear and out the other. The victim had the upper hand when the offender believed he was impenetrable. Arthur could make himself look, act and embody indifference. He blinked at Fischer's words. Despite being restrained, his aura was superior. His disillusioning boredom screamed at Fischer and told him, he wouldn't and didn't have to do anything he said. _

_Ariadne on the other hand had not been in this business as long. Ariadne had not been in this situation. Ariadne was born a more passionate and stubborn person. She was the kind of soul who would get up in your face and refuse your threats persistently. On top of her natural character, her pregnancy hormones were raging and her temper was not to be tried with. "Arthur would never help you do that."_

_He snickered, "I can make him."_

"_Over my dead body." She gritted._

"_Ariadne." Arthur called. _

_Robert ignored The Point Man and caressed the girl's cheek, "That's doable." _

_In a fit of feminism, rebellion and hatred, she grabbed the wrist by her face and dug her nails into his flesh. At first, Fischer just winced and tried to act amused. She dug harder. "Let go," Robert grimaced._

"_Get your hand off of my face." She challenged, glaring darts._

_He wouldn't move. Would not cower to this girl. "Let. Go." He raised his other hand, pulled the hammer of his gun back and placed it on her temple. _

"_Ariadne." The Point Man warned. _

_The Architect pressed her fingernails harder. _

"_Three." Fischer grunted._

_Harder._

"_Two."_

_Harder._

"_Ariadne!" Arthur insisted. _

_Reluctantly, she opened her claws and released him. Ariadne's eyes still hatefully boring into his. _

xxxxxx

"Arthur! Please! Shoot me." Ariadne cried, no longer struggling against her captors.

The blonde pushed her little brother behind her, "Uncle Arthur, please don't!"

"Unca Arfur, what are you doing?" James' terrified eyes peeked out from behind his sister.

Ariadne begged, "Arthur, please, not the kids!"

One of the henchman kept her in headlock and the other kicked her in the side of her stomach, raising the needle threateningly. " No, wait!" Arthur reamed at the two men and focused on her, shaking the gun in the air and accidentally letting it go off. The sound of the bullet ricocheted through the room, "What do you expect me to do?"

"Arthur, you're scaring me! You're scaring James and Phillippa!" The two kids were holding on to each other for dear life and bawling.

"They've had a chance to live; our baby hasn't!" He reasoned.

"This isn't you! I want the real Arthur back! You don't have to do this."

Her henchman slammed the back of her head into the wall. Her grunt turned Arthur's rage higher and his grip on the gun tightened, causing it to fire again, just missing the kids and striking by their feet. Their high pitched screams pierced his conscious.

"Arthur. Give me up. I want you to. Please. " She forced through the pain.

"No! Ariadne, please. Just. Stop. Talking. "

Robert Fischer, getting more impatient and un-amused by the second warned, "Arthur, someone is dying in the next sixty seconds, whether you're the one who chooses who or not." He pulled out his own gun again and pulled back the hammer.

Phillippa and James tensed their hold on each other and huddled. Their faces were nothing but wet, red, swollen messes. Arthur swallowed and aimed at Ariadne's head…his face contorted, his eyes beginning to overflow, he couldn't do it….he couldn't do it. Ariadne squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself.

Bang.

She was still breathing. Her eyes darted open, fearing what he'd just done and seeing his stance changed and poised towards the children, "Arthur!"

But she heard Phillippa's voice, "Uncle Eames!"

It was all a blur. Eames, several familiar faces and an army of Asians barged into the room. Gunfire was everywhere. Ariadne felt the two men holding her back release their grip and slump to the ground. She ducked and covered her head, yelled at the kids across the room to do the same. She made eye contact with the little girl and the little girl nodded at her. Ariadne watched in slow motion as Phillippa pushed a distracted James down to cover himself and then jolted…And fell limply to the ground. The architect's eyes widened and she searched for the perpetrator. There in the corner, Fischer's right hand man…Browning…smiling satisfactorily at his evil accomplishment of gunning down a little girl.

Something overtook Ariadne and she bolted and dodged across the room and jumped the old man before he could fix his aim on James. He hadn't been expecting her. She'd knocked him to the ground and amidst the gunshot and chaos started beating him with her fists and yelling profanities at him with everything she had. Browning may be old…but he was still a man. And men are stronger than women. Especially women in Ariadne's condition. He caught her wrists and rolled over on top of her legs, nearly crushing them. Browning grabbed a fallen pipe lying in the vicinity and raised it to finish this bitch.

He fell back lifeless before he could do so. Arthur having shot him multiple times for touching a hair on Ariadne's head. Arthur ran to her, pushed Browning off her legs and pulled her up. He put her arm around his neck and tried to help her out as quickly as possible. The forger's voice echoed across the room, "Arthur! Get her and the baby out of here!" She heard shouts and shots and bodies falling to the ground, nearly all of Fischer's men being overtaken by Saito's generous help and Eames. The Point Man diligently dodged the bullets and made for the door.

"Arthur, James! You have to get James!"

"Let me get you safe and I promise I'll go back for him."

James was panicking. His sister wouldn't move no matter how many times his little hands shook her and screamed her name in her ear. He noticed the same pool of ketchup-looking liquid had surrounded her like it had surrounded daddy. He whimpered and looked around for Auntie Ari; the little boy started to tremble at the absence of her, wondering if she was lying in ketchup too. There, halfway across the room heading for the opening, Uncle Arthur was carrying her off. They were abandoning him.

"Auntie Ari!" She heard the little boy call for her and whipped her head to meet his eyes. "Auntie Ari! Don't leave me!" He stood and wailed for her, arms reaching out. Men dropping like flies all around the warehouse.

She tried to turn around, tried to will the feeling back into her legs so she could stand on her own. So she could run to the boy and scoop him in her arms. "Arthur, go back!"

"I've got to get you out! I will I promise."

"Arthur, please!" She struggled to fight against him, the more movement she made the more the feeling returned to her legs. She was no longer cooperating and moving in the direction Arthur was pushing her. "We've already lost Philippa!" She'd switched arms and turned all the way around, peering over Arthur's shoulder and reaching to the little boy. Arthur hadn't known the little girl had been shot. The pace of his gait faltered and his face darkened but he shook it and put it away for later. Right now he needed to get his baby out of range.

James stood there looking after her, crying. Covering his face with his little hands. Then he saw her reach to him. Auntie Ari didn't want to leave him. She wanted him with her. He stopped crying and confusedly took a step forward.

Ariadne could see the wheels turning in his head. He was going to be a kid and do something stupid. "James, don't!"

Eames heard Ariadne's request and turned his attention from his opponent to the blonde, "James, love, sit down!"

The blonde wouldn't listen. He wanted his comforting, gentle Ariadne to hold him and kiss his forehead and tell him Daddy and Phillippa would be ok. They just needed bandaids…right? All other thoughts fled his body and he was consumed with fright. The only thing that could quell him and keep the monsters from chasing him was his dear Auntie Ari and her smile. James broke into a run across the room as fast as his chubby four year old legs would carry him, "Auntie Ari, don't leave me!"

Eames yelled, "James, stop!"

At the same time Ariadne beat her fist against Arthur's chest, "Arthur! STOP!"

Arthur paused for the briefest of seconds and looked at Ariadne. Her eyes had never asked him for anything more fervently. He considered turning around and sprinting for the boy. Bang. Eames' shout. His eyes went wide and he turned over his shoulder, the little boy lay crumpled on the ground. Eames was laying it into the man that had killed the boy. Ariadne's blood-curdling heartache ripped through Arthur as she screamed for James and pushed herself away from Arthur. She ran, pushing herself towards the little boy despite her limp. More gunshots were firing, aiming at her. The Point Man grabbed her around the waist and hauled her out of the building as fast as human mortality allowed. Shielding her from bullets with his body, while he pried her hands off of the frame of the opening and pulled her away. Her protests stabbed his heart the entire way.

Kicking, Pulling, Thrashing, Scratching, Squirming, Yelling, "James!"

xxxxxx

_Fischer rubbed his wrist. His blood boiled as he registered the marks she had indented in him, a couple of them nearly bleeding. "One." He snapped his fingers on his working hand and two more men emerged picking her up and hauling her off. _

_Arthur tried elbowing the men holding him, "Ariadne!" _

_Kicking, Pulling, Thrashing, Scratching, Squirming, Yelling, "Arthur!" _

_The sticky strawberry syrup trailed along…forgotten and wandering on the tile._

xxxxxx


	5. Sunlight on a Broken Column

**Chapter 5- Sunlight On a Broken Column**

The high pitched sound of sirens still rang through the air. Ariadne had ripped her scarf off and thrown it into the wind…the metallic smell of blood had stained and ruined it. It would never remind her of her fifteenth birthday again…only the cries of James and Philippa and Cobb's lifeless body. Eames had been comforting Ariadne as Arthur and Saito's assistant fabricated a story for the cops. Since very few of Fischer's men had survived and Fischer himself rushed to the hospital, they were able to sell the story that it had been an attack on Saito's company. Arthur, Ariadne, Eames and the Cobbs were proven hostages and "employees" of the Japanese millionaire and Fischer would be arrested and sent to rehab after he was nursed back to health. Ariadne couldn't look as they wheeled the body bags of the small children passed her. The paramedics had taken Ariadne and ran a full check up on her as soon as they'd arrived. So far she and the baby's pulse was a normal rate, the lining of her womb was intact (only slightly bruised) and everything checked out fine in the pregnancy department. She was still roughed up. Arthur wanted her to go to an emergency appointment with the OBGYN but Ariadne refused, she just wanted to get home. It was all blurry: The trees, bushes, pastures. Ariadne had been staring out the window the two hour ride home and her mouth hadn't uttered a word. She didn't even cry…the pieces of her capable of that had already died and were wheeled off with James and Philippa she supposed. For her sake, Arthur hoped she'd fall asleep but he could see her reflection in the window. This girl was not Ariadne. This girl was a shell of her. He'd been glancing at her every couple minutes to see if she'd moved but she never did. At one point, Arthur had moved his hand on top of hers comfortingly but Ariadne pulled away, retreated further into the corner between her seat and the window. They pulled up in the parking area. Ariadne hadn't waited for Arthur to get out and open her door for her, she hadn't even waited for him to turn the car off before her seatbelt slid back and she dove out of her door. She let herself inside and cursed loudly when she stepped in the foul smelling sludge of food that had rotted in their foyer. "Just great." She gritted sarcastically and kicked the bag across the floor. That's just what she needed. A visible reminder of how long she'd been gone. A way to confirm that she _had_ been gone, that they'd been taken by force, that what had just happened was real…not a story that happened to someone far else, far away. Arthur entered after her, closed and locked the door. "What's wrong?'

She turned, shocked, mouth gaping open, "_What's wrong_? Did you really just ask that question?" Ariadne shed her coat and tossed it on the counter. It reeked of the sterile warehouse and held no comfort anymore.

Arthur, too, took off his outer layer. In contrast though, he neatly hung it on the rack by the door. "You haven't looked at me since I drug you out of there."

Ariadne shrugged, "I'm looking at you now." She blinked at him and then scowled down at the food remnants on the floor again. The smell wouldn't go away. It smelled like something had died…and three people she loved dearly had.

"You're upset with me," Arthur crossed the front of the room and dared run his hand down her shoulder, "I can tell."

Her arms folded across her chest, "Well I'm sorry, Arthur, but I am. And I can't just bottle it up and pretend like I'm not!" She went to the pantry to get the mop and a trash bag. She couldn't handle the sludge any longer.

"I couldn't do anything." He defended himself, watching her movements.

"I understand about Cobb." She began attacking the sludge with the mop psychotically. Her back and forward strokes were speeding up, "And there was no way we could've gotten to Philippa in time…" Now she was stabbing at the rotten food on the ground, "but you could've saved James."

Arthur walked to stand in front of her again and tried to take the mop from her hands and do the dirty work himself, "I was trying to save _you_."

The Architect retaliated and threw the mop handle away, "What makes me so special?"

"You're pregnant."

"You could've scooped him up too," she chastised and began work opening up the trash bag loudly.

His mouth was agape at her accusations, "How? You had no feeling in your legs. I couldn't carry both of you and get us all out unscathed."

She stopped, "That could've been our little boy trying to run to me."

A flicker in Arthur eyes betrayed him and told Ariadne she'd gotten to him. She knew that if James had been theirs, he would've found a way to carry them both. Or he would've chosen James instead. Arthur swallowed and gently tried to take the bag from her, "Babe, let me help."

"No, you've done enough." She swatted his hand away and his anger rose.

"If you would've cooperated with me and let me carry you out when I wanted to, I might could've gotten back to James in time."

"So you're saying it's my fault?" The trash bag scrunched in her fist as she moved her hands to her hips.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, "That's not fair. You know that's not what I meant."

The Parisian's fiery demeanor changed as she passed through their kitchen and let the bag fall on the floor, "No, you're right. It probably is my fault." Pause. "I should've listened to you…I should've never pushed you into being a couple. If we hadn't gotten attached to each other like this maybe the Cobbs would be alive right now."

"You're being ridiculous." He followed, picked up the trash bag and laid it on the counter on the way.

Was she? After all, he was the one that told her many moons ago that getting close to someone in this business was deadly. If a former client or mark or team member held a grudge, the slightest hint of attachment was collateral for them to use against you. The entire Cobb family was dead as proof. Arthur and Ariadne themselves had just been proof. "Am I? We shouldn't be together, Arthur. We shouldn't be engaged. _I shouldn't be pregnant with your child! _We went too far…" She gave a look that said she was disgusted with what they'd done. She couldn't believe what a monstrous thing they'd brought about as if they were the direct cause of the catastrophe. Like they were the most selfish people to walk the planet.

Arthur corrected, "Ari, We fell in love…"

"We shouldn't _be_ in love." Her eyes began to water, "We should've stayed The Point Man and The Architect and we should've never messed with that." Her hand grasped at her engagement ring and twisted and pulled at it, trying to take it off…when she was unsuccessful she let it be and grunted.

Arthur rubbed his face with his hand. Her words, her regret, anger were all stinging him. He tried to brush it off and walked to the fridge, "Look," he heaved a heavy sigh, "You're stressed, we've been through a lot, we haven't gotten much sleep…here." He handed her an applesauce, "You probably don't feel good…you need to eat something."

Ariadne's incredulous eyes bore into his while he tried to lovingly smooth her hair down. How could he think about food right now? How could he be so nonchalant? How could he not feel guilty as hell right now? "I'm. Not. Hungry."

Arthur briefly lost his cool and jabbed at her, "Well maybe you're not hungry but my baby needs sustenance."

Her mouth fell open, "_Your_ baby?" She stalked away to their bedroom.

"Yes." He dropped the applesauce on the counter agitatedly and leaned against it. Eyeing her, challenging her.

"Because it's growing in _your_ stomach?"

"Well obviously you don't want it," Arthur ranted while he caught up to her, "You're upset with me for not killing you both. And you just said you wished you weren't pregnant with it!"

Ariadne turned. How dare he say she didn't care about this baby? She took all the precautions. She wanted this baby to be as healthy and happy as can be. She daydreamed about the baby's little feet pitter pattering around, she's sketched out different nursery ideas, she was excited about this baby. She wanted this baby. How dare he say she didn't want it? She yelled in his face as she reached their bedroom, "I never said I wished I wasn't pregnant with this baby!" then her voice turned quiet and steely, "I wish it wasn't yours." Then she slammed the door in his face and he heard the click of the lock.

xxxxxx

Time slipped away from Arthur as he sat on the couch. He'd cleaned up the decayed food from the day their home was invaded to get their fight off his mind. It wasn't happening. So as the light of day turned from a bright yellow, to a light blue, to darkness he sat and pondered her last words. I wish it wasn't yours. I wish it wasn't yours. I wish it wasn't yours.

But it _was_ his. The baby was _his_. In all honesty, though, part of what she said was true and Arthur was a hypocrite. He told her when they first started meeting up that they shouldn't become too good of friends. All of those nights that he'd ask her to dinner or walked her home, he told himself it needed to be the last time. Before he went on that two month job away from her, they knew that their feelings were crawling beyond the friendly boundary and they knew it was mutual. He tried to lie and break it off. Find some other girl to mess around with and continue his bachelor on the run lifestyle. Yet, three hours before he got on that plane he _had _to see _her_. He almost missed his flight because he had to let her know he couldn't control it anymore. He had to rush to her and tell her to wait for him because if he came back to find her with another man, he'd shoot him. He had to tell Ariadne that no matter how dangerous it was…it was worth a shot. Being with her was well worth the highest risk. He had been too stupid to listen to his common sense, he'd dragged her under with him and here they were. Living together. Engaged to be married. Expecting a child. Would Arthur change it? No, he'd do it all over again. A world without her coloring outside of his lines was not a world at all. He didn't have a life before her, he had an existence. He wouldn't have had a life after her either. He would've had an abyss.

He couldn't possibly have shot her in that warehouse. He'd hadn't held the gun pointed at her for a split second before pins and needles shot through his brain. But he couldn't have possibly shot those kids either. He would've shot himself sooner. He was just frazzled; he didn't know what he was doing. He was trying to buy time and he had no currency for it. But the way it must have looked to Ariadne…the way her stomach must have churned and the fear that might have seeped through to the baby, his baby. He had every intention to go back for James. He just wanted to sit her outside and he would've sprinted back in, scooped the boy up and taken him home with them. When James was shot, Arthur went numb. Chills up his spine. He'd failed Cobb, let him down, he'd broken Ariadne's heart. Every scream of grief that left Ariadne's mouth as he pulled her away against her will sent a pounding thought through his brain. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

He felt small arms snake across his chest from behind and her warm cheek pressed next to his, "I didn't mean any of it," she whispered.

Arthur took one of her hands and pulled it for her to wind around, "Come here." Low and sweet.

She came around to the front of the couch and curled into his lap. Ariadne fingered the collar on his button up, "I hate fighting with you."

"I _wanted_ to save him, Ariadne. I wanted to save _all _of them."

"I know you did."

"I just—they had that needle so close to you and I was so afraid. I was so afraid to lose the two of you." His hand flew to the back of her head and pushed her temple against his cheek, placed kisses in her hair. "Philippa and James were wailing and Fischer was yelling and the gun in my hand just felt so heavy and I didn't know what to do. For the first time in my life, I had no control…When I had the opportunity, the only thing I could think about was getting you and our baby out of there. Nothing else registered. I was _so scared_ of losing you and you were so upset with me for it."

Ariadne sat up and away from him, turned her attention to smooth and run her fingers through his hair, "I'm grieving, Arthur. I'm shocked and depressed and I feel partly responsible…I vented without thinking. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

She smiled in a melancholy manner and kissed him chastely on the lips, after which Arthur deepened it. Then she pulled away with a gasp, "Arthur!"

"What?"

A bright eyed grin appeared out of nowhere. The Architect excitedly grabbed his hand and pressed it to her belly. She looked at him anxiously and bit her lip while she waited for the baby to—

"It's kicking!" Arthur's eyes widened and met hers. They laughed and cooed over the first kicks of their awaited baby. The more Ariadne laughed the more the flutters jumped around beneath her skin. Arthur smiled as he felt them, "It's got your excitability."

Her smile tapered and the look in her eyes changed to hold more meaning, more admiration. She linked her fingers through his as they lay on her just noticeably larger belly, "I wouldn't want this baby to be anyone's but yours."


	6. Deliberate Disguises

Wow, so thank you to the ever encouraging/enthusiastic _miniamelia13_! Glad it interests you! And thanks to _cinematherapy. _Now bear with me readers…it's gotta get worse before it gets better…

**Chapter 6- Such Deliberate Disguises**

It was her wiggling around in his arms that jostled him awake. Ariadne pushed at his arms to release her and stumbled out of bed limply. Exhausted, Arthur sat up and asked her what was wrong. Her voice was rugged with sleep as it answered monotonously, "I've got blood on me. I have to take a bath."

Arthur wiped his eyes and looked at the clock, "It's 2 am, Ari."

"I feel dirty. I want to be clean." She insisted.

"Just wait until morning," He slurred.

"I need to be clean." He heard the door close and the bath faucet squeak as it turned, opened and rushed water out of it. Then he was back in his peaceful darkness.

He hadn't felt her damp head return to its spot near his. His body was somehow aware that they were still separated and woke him up. Arthur still heard the peaceful rush of water through the faucet. He looked at the clock to read 2:45. It was time to check on her; she never spent forty five minutes in the shower. He slung his legs over the bed and rested his feet on the carpet with a squish. Arthur felt a spongy wetness in between his toes. As he stood and contemplated, it clicked. The sloshing wetness of their carpet and the sound of a continuous downpour of water…The Point Man was wide awake. He flew across the room and pushed the bathroom door open. An ocean covered their tile and welcomed him in its current. Eyes open but slowly coming to a close, sitting in an overflowing bathtub, fully clothed, water rising over her forehead, was Ariadne. Arthur counted how many splashes it took to get to her and pull her out of the bathtub (he didn't even bother shutting the water off). He frantically carried her and set her on their bed and analyzed her condition. Her eyes had shut and she had stopped breathing. Droplets of the evil water were running down her face like tears.

He was certified to perform mouth to mouth resuscitation and so he did. Simulating a heartbeat and giving her all the air he had to give. It seemed like hours in his shaken state before she responded, spit up the water in her stomach and coughed. Arthur hugged her to him in relief, a relief which faded into confusion when she asked, "Arthur, why are we wet?"

"You…" His voice tapered.

"I had a dream that I was drowning and now I'm wet." Her sentence gave way to the pounding of water forcing its way into the bathtub. He left to turn it off and let it drain, to throw all their towels on the floor and soak up the evidence. 'Why' was a good question. Ariadne wouldn't purposefully attempt to drown herself. Would she? And she was too aware and intelligent to fall asleep as the tub was running…and to get in fully clothed? It wasn't her. She must have been sleepwalking. Ariadne's subconscious had been greatly affected by their dealings with Fischer and it would only get worse before it got better. But when it did get better, Fischer would have a hell of a price to pay for traumatizing her like this.

Though still out of the loop, Ariadne had fetched them both a new pair of pajamas and was already fast asleep back in bed. Arthur changed and slid in next to her, tangled his hand in her damp curls and thanked every force greater than humans that he'd caught her in time; that she was still breathing next to him.

xxxxxx

Two hazel-brown eyes fluttered open to the soft yellow sunlight and the chatter of random people. Ariadne yawned as Arthur turned the tv down to bestow a good morning. She sat up against the headboard like him and wiped her eyes in a manner only described as endearing. "I made you pancakes."

"I'm not really that hungry…"

"That's fine," He turned his attention away from the tv and focused it on her, "But they're chocolate chip."

At this, her eyes brightened and she sat up straighter. "Did you bring up the syrup?"

"And the strawberry milk," He set the tray in front of her with a flourish then felt her small fist clench the neck of his shirt and pull him down to her lips. It was rushed; her sole focus was excitedly back on the pancakes, with fork in hand, before she ever released her hold on Arthur's shirt. He chuckled at her pregnant and proud appetite. She was in the process of devouring her pancakes when she stopped and laughed.

"What?" asked Arthur.

"Just thinking about you…" She giggled with another bite.

Leaning seductively close but having no effect he joked, "What about me?"

"How two years ago I never would've thought that the _Point Man_, of all people, would be bringing me breakfast in _our _bed."

He countered, "Well I never thought that the Architect would cast her evil spell on me and _force_ me to be with her."

Ariadne knew he was joking but mocked surprise and hurt. "Geeze…Fine then, that's it. After I finish these pancakes I'm leaving you."

"Don't joke like that," All amusement had vanished from his features, "It's not funny."

Continuing, she teased with her mischievous grin, "I'm not joking. We're over."

"Ari, Stop." He kissed her for reassurance and she relented, rolled her eyes at him for taking her so seriously.

"Well I guess I'll go take a shower then." She laid her fork on her clean plate, took a swig of milk and then moved her tray to her bedside table.

Arthur was quickly up in arms, "Why? You don't need one."

"Because I feel icky and I need to wash my hair." She shrugged.

"Wash it in the sink."

"Too much work."

He paused then added, "Let me come with you."

Missing that his tone was serious instead of suggesting, she replied, "Not this morning Arthur. I actually want to get clean," Ariadne detected a hint of worry in Arthur's eyes, "This isn't about that nightmare I had last night, is it?"

"It wasn't a nightmare. It was real. The carpet is still wet."

Ariadne sighed, she'd had an inkling she'd been sleepwalking. She used to as a kid and teenager. When she was too stressed about something, Ariadne would sleepwalk. Last time she sleepwalked was right before finals during her last term at University. However, she'd never woken up so drastically. Normally Ariadne would sleep design or talk to walls or wake up on the couch, show up in her parent's room and just stand in front of their bed looking at them, she'd even peed in the kitchen trash can on accident once. On the whole though, Ariadne had had phases of sleepwalking her whole life and was used to it, so she tried to brush off her near drowning experience as a funny little joke. Arthur, however, had never seen her sleepwalk. He knew enough to know that when people sleepwalk they can talk and act like they're awake which was proven by last night and it scared the hell out of him.

The Architect tried to soothe him, "Well, I was half asleep. I'm wide awake, now. I'll be fine."

Before she swung her legs over the side, she felt Arthur's nose in the crook of her neck, "You almost drowned," he whispered.

"I'll keep the door cracked and talk to you the entire time if that'll make you feel better."

Arthur took a deep breath into her skin and wrapped an arm in front of her. Insistently, she pulled it off and stood to face him. The water collected between her toes and made her wince, "And then I'll make us a big lunch and we can have a picnic at the park. The one with the fountains, we haven't been there in a while…" She coaxed and smiled hopefully. With a kiss on his cheek she was gone and the eerily nauseating sound of gushing water was flipped on.

xxxxxx

_She peeked her head around the corner. Red rimmed eyes, trembling. _

_Arthur was laying on the bed, engrossed in his research. He'd heard the door open and close and heard the rustling of her keys but hadn't felt it necessary to move just yet. When he looked up and saw his fiancée in such a state, his laptop was tossed to the side and he was at hers immediately. "What's the matter?"_

"_I-I had my check up this morning. Remember? I've been feeling that lump…?"_

_Arthur's face darkened, "Oh God…they run any tests?"_

"_Several. I-I don't know how to tell you…" she started hiccupping._

_The man took her shoulders and bore into her eyes seriously, daring her to lie to him, "Ariadne, just tell me. It's cancer, isn't it?"_

_Her eyes widened and she shook her head, "No it—it isn't cancer."_

_Arthur took a huge breath of relief before she continued, "It's—I'm…Arthur, I…."_

"_What?"_

"_I'm pregnant."_

_She analyzed his eyes. "Mine?"_

"_Whose else's would it be?" Her voice became timid._

_Arthur's eyes lit up, a grin grew, his dimples stamped his irrepressible happiness on his features and he started to tear. He removed a hand from her shoulder to cup her face, "Ari…"_

"_You-You're not upset?" Her mood was now lifting, her own lips turning upwards. She was so worried that traditional, proper, Arthur would be upset that they'd had a child before wedlock. _

_His eyes were huge, gleaming. His smile never faltered, it only grew bigger. "How could I be upset? Y-you're carrying my baby, our baby." He was tongue tied, "We-we- made a-a baby, Ari!" He chuckled, "Our love made a baby…" _

_He pressed his lips to hers gently and then picked her up to twirl her around in their foyer. She giggled when he put her down and closed the space between them once more. Then Arthur jerked away suddenly, eyes wide, scared. "I didn't hurt you did I? That's not going to hurt the baby is it?"_

_Ariadne snorted at him. Arthur was overly concerned, over protective and super attentive to begin with. He loved her, it was his nature. Now that she equaled two things that he loved, he would take those characteristics and make them even more excessive. "No. I'm barely two months; the baby is the size of a grain of rice." She patted his face, "No need to baby me, yet." _

_He felt giddy again, "Baby," he repeated, trying to physically shake the grin off his face. Then questioning with his eyes he lowered to his knees. Ariadne raised an eyebrow before he lifted her shirt and rubbed his thumb just across the top of her belly button. Her waist was still thin, stomach still flat. Then he placed a feather light kiss and gazed lovingly at it, almost entranced. _

_When his eyes met hers again, she saw fresh tears, "You never stop creating beautiful things, do you?" _

xxxxxx

The three nights since the incident, Ariadne had been plagued with nightmares worse than the ones of her drowning. She would wake gasping for breath, crying hysterically, phantom pains in various places. She would tremble, her hands would feel bloody and sometimes she would stare into space because her mind would take longer to wake up than her body did. She would call out for Cobb, Philippa, James, even Eames. Only two times of the hundreds did she call out to Arthur and the exact phrases had been "Arthur, please don't!" and "You're scaring me, Arthur!"

Arthur had nightmares, too, when he actually slept. He'd tried five times. (Yes, he counted.) Twice the images were too vivid, too filled with guilt and blood for him to stand closing his eyes. And the other three were because the girl by his side had made sleeping impossible. He wouldn't take the chance of having a peaceful, dreamless sleep and leaving her to wake up distraught and alone. No, he welcomed the responsibility of patiently waiting for her to come to, wiping the beads of sweat away, pretending to wash her hands free of the blood and rocking her back to sleep. He never let on how unnerved he was that she never called for him. That after she woke and before her mind caught up with her, she was terrified of him. Wouldn't let him touch her. He never told the Ariadne who was fully conscious and aware of herself, that every time she yelled for someone else to help her, it stung worse than the guilt and the grief. It cut deeper than his freshly committed sins.

He was tapping a nameless melody on the nightstand when he felt her start to squirm around. They had been frequent tonight. She'd been waking up with phantom pains in her shoulder and back. Sometimes her stomach. Yelling in pain, like normal. Crying hysterically, calling for Phillipa and James the most tonight. This time was no different. "Not the kids! No! James! James is a baby! Please!" Arthur turned and prepared himself. Like clockwork, she bolted up, this time clutching her stomach. She was groaning and hiccupping. "It's ok, Ariadne. Wake up. Come on, wake up."

Ariadne blinked a few times and then looked at Arthur and her eyebrows temporarily unfurrowed, breathing slowed. She'd come to much faster this time. The Point Man smiled sympathetically and tucked a hair behind her ear. They were pros at having conversations with their eyes. He was saying "You're so brave," "It'll be ok," and "I'm so sorry," all at once. Ariadne was in the middle of returning a melancholy smirk when she doubled over in pain again. Grunting through gritted teeth.

"Hey…hey…" Arthur tried to soothe her, "The pain is all in your mind. You're safe now."

She paused. Calmed her terse breathing and slumped with her head in her lap. He couldn't see but her eyes widened. She felt the sickeningly familiar feeling of blood trickling. She leaned back, looked under the covers and sure enough…it was there…but normally it was on her hands when she had these night terrors. What was happening? She threw the covers off of her and dove out of bed, knocking into her bedside table and causing it to topple. She could feel the drip down her limbs…"Oh no…"

"Ariadne…" He called calmly, used to her strange behavior, and got on his knees on the bed. He attempted to cross over to her but she was already making her way across the room.

"I'm bloody. I'm bleeding!"

He sighed and coddled, "I've got the washcloth, sweetheart. Come back to bed. I'll clean your hands."

She yelled at him in full panic, "You don't understand!" She thrust herself into their bathroom and slammed the door shut…the click of the lock taunting him.

Arthur followed to stand at the door. He opened his mouth to try and coax her out and had been cut off by her own voice, talking to herself. "No…Oh no…please, please…no."

A few seconds passed, "Shit. Shit!" He heard her howl like she was being tormented and this, this caused him to finally knock, "Ari?" He called.

She ignored him with a final wail. "Ariadne. Are you ok?"

Arthur heard a gasp. "No! No—Oh my God! Oh my Go—"

"Ariadne! What's wrong?" he knocked harder, only to hear the sound of her retching her guts out. "Shit! Shit—No!" The loud thump of her hitting the wall, her fumbling around, wailing and weeping and he was on edge, resorting to pounding on the door, "Ariadne! What is wrong? Let me in!"

The voice he heard didn't belong to his fiancée. It was broken, breathy, filled with sobs. This couldn't be his future wife. "Go away, please."

Ariadne slid down the far wall and cradled her head in her hands. She foggily heard the door handle jiggle violently, "Let me in. Let me see you!"

"Please. I don't want you in here! Leave me alone!" It cracked and changed pitches without her consent.

Arthur couldn't hide it in his voice. The way her last words had hit him, that she didn't want him in there with her. He was less demanding and more pleading the next time he opened his mouth, "Just let me see you. Let me know you're ok."

He'd had to strain to hear the soft words through the door, "I'll never be ok. I could never be ok after this…" then in contrast a sob bubbled forth. Arthur couldn't take it anymore, he needed to know what she was going through. He backed away from the door, and then launched himself into it. Her head darted up and she looked at him with shock, devastation and embarrassment. He froze upon the sight.

Ariadne crumpled in the corner against the wall, a folded towel next to her. Everything tossed around, the nauseating sight of her blood trailed all over the clean crème tiles. Bloody handprints smeared across the sink, the tub, the toilet, the floor. The ends of her shirt, her pants and her hands stained, ruined with the same crimson liquid. Alarm transported him to her side, cupping her face. "Are you ok? What happened? Did you cut yourself!"

She shook her swollen face and choked out several more whimpers before she could meet his eyes. "Arthur…" she strained.

"What? What can I do? How are you hurt?" His eyes grazed over her tainted clothing and skin.

She shook her head and whispered, catching his attention again, "The baby…"

Arthur went numb from head to toe. He had to lean against the wall as well, analyzing the state of the bathroom and trying to find another explanation. It was then that he saw the miniscule form lying on the towel next to her, and it was then that his eyes shut, his head hung and he began to heave. "Oh God…"

Fresh tears erupted from her, "I'm so, so, sorry Arthur…"

"No…no, Ari…" he pinched the bridge of his nose and composed himself so he could focus on comforting her. "It's not your fault. Trauma is a common cause for…m…miscarriage…"

Ariadne had quieted considerably. Her eyes had glazed over and she stared ahead. Hearing the M word had flipped a switch inside of her. "Come on, Sweetie, let me change you and carry you back to the bed."

The architect shook her head, "The bed is bloody. I'm bloody," she muttered incoherently, detached.

He kissed her forehead and promised to be right back. Sure enough, her side of the bed had a patch of blood and few droplets had fallen on the floor. He changed the sheets emotionlessly and robotically returned the bedside table to its exact previous state. He retrieved her favorite pajama set and a clean pair of underwear. It was like changing a mannequin. She was limp, unmoving, of no help. Her mind had rendered her body paralyzed.

Arthur carried her to the bed and tucked her in. He left her there only because he needed to clean up the bathroom, rid the evidence of loss. He cleaned until his entire body smelled of bleach. The bathroom looked new, would sparkle in the proper light. No trace of blood or bile or tears. The fetus, he gently placed in a shoebox and tied a red ribbon around it. Ari's favorite color. It was a boy, like she'd hoped and he'd begun to hope too. Once she was better, they would bury him together for closure. He laid it by the front door and returned to his fiancée.

She was still awake. Lying on her side, staring at the wall. He kneeled by her and caressed her face, trying to smooth out her worry lines. They didn't suit her. He was tracing her lips when she met his eyes and seemed to come back from wherever her mind had traveled to. "Arthur…?" she sounded hoarse, the result of endless tears.

He reverted back to sweeping the back of his fingers up and down her cheekbone, "What, Sweetheart?" he murmured.

A few more of her tears had shed, "It hurts."

"I know…"

"I-I feel so empty."

Arthur's eyes shined with water, "Ari…" he used his thumb to rid her face of the teardrops that shouldn't grace it.

"I'm _so_ sorry." She breathed. Fresh tears were pooling in her eyes again.

"Stop staying that," he lovingly traced her jawline, "It will never be your fault."

They stayed in silence. Her bloodshot looking eyes stayed clung to his and his hand rubbed itself along her neck. Surprisingly, it was she that broke the quiet. "Will you rock me like you do when I have a nightmare?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, Ari." He made his way around and crawled in next to her. He waited for her to nestle into him and then he wrapped his arms around her and swayed back and forth lightly, nuzzling his lips in her hair.

Xxxxxx

Well…yeah… that was dark and not so happy. But as always review equals update!


	7. This Is Cactus Land

Thanks much to the awesome _miniamelia13_ and _cinematherapy! _ I know this isn't the fluffiest but the angsty stuff makes when the fluff comes…that MUCH fluffier. I promise. I find hard times to be when the depth of characters emotions tends to surface.

**Chapter 7- This Is Cactus Land**

Worry.

He thought nothing of it, the first time he'd woken up and felt cold with her absence. If it weren't for the occasional 'Ow' coming out of their bathroom, he would've gone back to sleep. Consideration for the effect the miscarriage had had on her and curiosity of the origin of her pain caused him to check her. The bathroom door was cracked and Arthur knocked lightly first. She hadn't answered so he called out to her. Again, nothing but soft 'ow's coming from the interior. Arthur pushed open the door to find Ariadne slumped in the same spot as the night before. Her creamy white stomach was angry red and she was clawing at it. Determined. Obsessively. Compulsively.

He called across the bathroom, "Ariadne, what are you doing?"

She froze. One blink. Eye contact. "What?"

Arthur deadpanned.

"Why am I in the bathroom?" She asked innocently, then, "Agh." Ariadne seemed to have just noticed the marks that had been scratched raw. They burned, "Was I scratching myself?"

He led her back to their bed unsure of how to answer her questions. Unsure of what he'd just seen.

xxx

Panic Stricken.

The next time he'd woken up without her beside him had been alarming to say the least. She wasn't in the bathroom, she wasn't anywhere upstairs and he heard grunts downstairs. Arthur, half asleep, lazily made his way downstairs. Then he laid his eyes on her. He sprinted to her crouched form that leant against the bottom of the kitchen cabinet. She was sawing away at her stomach with a butter knife; thankfully she hadn't broken skin yet. "Ariadne, what are you doing?"

"I have to get the baby."

When he was closer he recognized the glazed over look in her eyes; Ariadne was sleepwalking. Again. "No, no Ariadne there is no baby. Wake up. You're sleepwalking. Ariadne." Arthur pried the utensil out of her fists and snapped his fingers in front of her face multiple times before she came to. She seemed fine once she was conscious, so he guided her back up the stairs.

xxx

Petrified.

The next night was no different. Ariadne had no trouble getting to sleep for the most part, so Arthur felt comfortable dozing off himself. He rolled over to spoon her and jolted awake when his arm fell through the air. He raced down the stairs to see her opening the drawer. He'd just reached her when the architect was pulling out scissors and tauntingly testing them out on the air. Arthur forced her hand down and forced the scissors out of her hand. "You don't need those, Ariadne."

"But the baby isn't safe in there; it has to come out." She looked at him with confused eyes. Like what she intended to do was the most mundane activity she could perform. Like it was no different than combing her hair or brushing her teeth.

"It already has, Ari. Wake up." He waved his hand over her eyes. She reached for the scissors again and he took her shoulders to shake her, "Wake up, Ariadne! Wake up."

The jostling of her body brought her mind to the present. She hadn't remembered coming downstairs, "Arthur, what happened?"

"Nothing. You were sleepwalking again. Let's go back to bed, ok?" He pulled her up the stairs this time.

xxx

Blood Curdling.

He heard the clang of something falling and woke. His body flooded with tingles. Arthur had meant to stay awake tonight and monitor her but he'd dozed off to her rhythmic breathing. The covers were thrown to the floor and he sprinted down the stairs, bolted to where she sat slumped against the bottom kitchen cabinets again. This time Ariadne held a butcher knife in her grasp. Arthur dove for it and caught it in the niche of time before she plunged it into her stomach. "Ariadne, you've got to wake up."

She wouldn't let go of the weapon. She wiggled it out of his hold and prepared to send it into her abdomen. Arthur grabbed the handle and pulled it towards him as she struggled to keep it in a downward path to her stomach. "I have to save the baby!"

"You have to wake up!"

She was grunting as she tried over and over to push it through her skin. She thrust it closer and closer. It took all the Point Man had to keep it an inch away from her. "I have to get it out! I have to get the baby, Arthur! Let me save it!"

"Ari, _please_, wake up!"

Ariadne then used her other hand to help, pushed with all her might and managed to get the tip of the knife to find her abdomen. The only thing keeping it from sinking into her skin was Arthur's strength, now both of his hands were pulling against her. "_Please_, Ariadne. Please; you _have_ to come to." He was sweating, beginning to cry from the stress.

"Why won't you let me save it?" She looked up at him in horror like he was really keeping her from saving their unborn. Arthur swore she was awake…that's the spell of sleepwalking. The Architect was pleading with such fervor, exerting her strength with such zeal that it was amazing to think she was truthfully unconscious. Suddenly, her eyes were giving him that look, the look that could get him to do absolutely anything for her: Taking a silly picture, going on a spontaneous vacation to Spain, letting her use the PASIV off hours…giving in to her charm and starting a relationship. It was hard for him to refuse her anything if she so desired it, he would serve her the moon and stars on a silver platter in a second if that's what she batted her eyelashes and asked for. Arthur found himself being overtaken and mesmerized by the illusion of her sleepwalking too. "_Please, Arthur?_" she whispered, "Let me save our baby…" He stuttered and his grip faltered slightly. When it did, the tip of the knife broke skin, a bead of blood rolled down her porcelain skin. She hissed and tried to make a slice across her, Arthur's groggy mind fought back to the present and regained his steady pull on the knife away from her. As the knife gained height and travelled further from her belly, Ariadne became frustrated. Thrusting the knife down and calling, "Teddy! Don't worry, I'm coming!"

"Baby, he's already gone...Please…just WAKE! UP!" He screamed in her ear.

All of a sudden she released her grasp and blinked her eyes. Arthur's hand shot up, still holding the knife, the pressure release causing it to move on its own accord. The Point Man's breathing slowed and he wiped the sweat off his brow before standing and throwing the knife in the sink.

She stood with him, panic washing over her, "Arthur, what was I doing?"

He took the knife and pressed the tip against the bottom of the sink so hard it bent it. He hated that knife. That knife was every bad thing he'd ever known. He wanted to destroy it. He bent it like he was bending Fischer's body. He bent it until the shape was rendered unusable. It was worthless. Would do nothing. In a fit of who knows what, he recklessly pulled the drawers open and started dumping every knife and fork and pair of scissors they owned into the trash. He dumped the apple peeler, the apple corer, any metal spatulas, the pizza cutter, everything. His actions were worrying her.

"Arthur. What was I doing?" She rested her hand on his shoulder blade.

"Trying to cut the baby out of your stomach." He sounded raspy, tired, shaken.

Ariadne's eyes grew and her hand fluttered to her stomach. He pushed passed her and threw the trash outside in the big garbage bin. He thought furiously to himself without filter: Why the hell had he let himself doze off like that? He was such a dumbass. He should've made himself stay awake what with what happened with the bathtub and the scissors! What, hadn't he learned his lesson from almost losing her not once, but three times now?What if he hadn't gotten there in time? What if he'd slept until morning? She would have stabbed herself a million times. Arthur would have woken to his fiancée lying lifeless on the floor, covered in blood. She would have killed herself had he not rushed down. A _millisecond_ later and he would have lost her too. The Architect was only thing in the world that still mattered to him. The only thing keeping him going. He couldn't fathom the thought of losing her… cradling her immovable, bloody body. Burying her. It hurt more than he could bear. His stomach was twisting and writhing and…he retched into the garbage bin before returning inside.

She'd slumped to the floor. Broken in pieces, trying her hardest to collect them back. Ariadne: sniffling, staring off into space again. He gently approached her and picked her up bridal style. He carried her back to bed and tucked her in. She hadn't moved her face an inch or changed the position of her pinky. He whispered sweet nothings to calm her and hadn't slept the rest of the night. Once she fell asleep, he held her close and stared ahead, tensing at every movement or sound she made.

xxx

Terrified. Distraught. Horrified. Traumatized.

Scared to death that it would happen again. Arthur was so afraid to shut his eyes for one second for fear of losing Ariadne. He never left her alone, couldn't. The worry ate away at him and he spent every moment wondering how he'd ever get her out of this. She was in the kitchen and decided she wanted an apple. Arthur in his clouded emotional state had forgotten to throw away the kitchen utensils in the dishwasher. She'd innocently picked out a knife to peel her fruit. All the Point Man saw was the gleam of sharp metal in her hand. All Arthur's mind processed was the threat of Ariadne's mind wanting to take her away from him. In a half nelson he'd crossed the apartment and pounced on her, prying the knife from her hand and throwing it in the sink. "Wake up!" He grabbed her chin and turned it towards him to force her eyes to see but, "I'm awake!"

"Come on, Ari." He snapped his fingers in front of her face and cupped it. "Don't do this to me again, wake up."

Ariadne gently put her hand on his wrist and guided his hand down, "I'm awake, Arthur."

He searched her eyes to make sure, took the hand that lowered his and kissed the palm and then rested his head on the counter. She rubbed his back and then left Arthur to it. Ariadne hadn't understood what had been going on the past couple days. All she knew was that she'd been having nightmares and sleepwalking and it had taken its toll on her fiancé. He wouldn't let her alone, morning, noon or night. She kept telling him they were nothing. She'd always had them and they'd always been pretty severe…pretty physical. She even recalled to him an example: When she was twelve and saw Titanic, she woke up on her brother's top bunk with her younger cousin's arm floaties on, towels were scattered over his floor and she was crying, using a cereal bowl to bilge the imaginary water out of the room below her. It lasted a week, this couldn't be much worse…Her explaining hadn't made him feel better though. So by this point, she'd learned to let him have his time to calm down and process things over again. The Architect was getting cold, thus she decided to throw on a sweatshirt of hers hanging by the front door. Her foot bumped into something.

A little box wrapped with a red bow.

She smiled to herself thinking Arthur had gotten her a present. She quickly glanced to him and decided to sneak a peek…Maybe curiosity didn't kill the cat but it would surely mortify her. She bent down, pulled the ribbon off and lifted the top...Then screamed bloody murder. She backed away rapidly and tripped, falling back onto her elbows, and then crawling as far as she could from the box. Arthur was soon by her side and noticed the red ribbon tangled in her fist, her frantic search for her bishop in her pocket, the way her face drained of color when reality had been confirmed. Arthur tried to help her stand and she all but trembled. Ariadne lifted her shirt and stared at her stomach, her free hand grasping it and her starting to heave.

"I thought it was just a nightmare!" She was pulling at the skin of her stomach, ripping off the scab from the incident with the butcher knife, not believing that her baby bump was no longer there.

Arthur pulled her into an embrace. One hand rubbing circles on the small of her back and one hand cradling her head, "No…you're—" He tried to break it to her gently, "You're not pregnant anymore…"

All movement, all trembling stopped. She pushed him away. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment and shame. "Don't touch me."

"Ari…"

"No. Stop." She backed away from him and made her way to their bedroom.

"Ariadne…"

"Stop. Stop. Just-stop." They stood at their bedroom door. She pushed at him and tried to shield her eyes hysterically.

"What am I doing? I don't know what I'm doing." Incredulously, Arthur ceased moving. He didn't know what he was doing to her….

"You're looking at me. Don't look at me." Ariadne disappeared behind their slammed bedroom door.

Xxxxxx

But as always review equals update!


	8. Hope of Empty Men

Yay! Thanks so much to _I love you Roza, cinematherapy, hahabloodyha, nowarning23 _and _musik577_

**Chapter 8- The Hope of Empty Men**

"Ariadne, you have to eat something, baby." She sat in their bed. She'd been mute for a couple days now and losing weight rapidly because she wouldn't partake of anything.

The day of her discovery, she wasn't hungry until dinner and wouldn't have mentioned it had Arthur not heard her stomach growl and insist he cook dinner for her. It was all of their favorite foods, prepared for comfort. He managed to pry her out of the bed to join him at the table. She picked through half of the meal and then threw it away in portions when she thought Arthur wasn't looking. The days after that: Thursday, Friday, Saturday, he let her roll around in the bed until lunch and then brought her a grilled cheese (or another sort of sandwich) and some fruit on a tray. She normally had one grape and nibbled at the crust. It got worse as the new week began. All she'd had on Tuesday was a few crackers because Arthur insisted. She finished the week out by pushing everything he put in front of her, away. Today, she wouldn't even acknowledge the existence of nutrition. He was getting worried, who wouldn't? It wasn't that she wasn't hungry…he could hear her stomach growl; she was just starving herself. Since she obviously wouldn't do it herself, Arthur dipped the spoon into the bowl and blew on the hot liquid, "I went out and got your Creamy Tomato soup..." his tone was hopeful, "You haven't had it in a while." She remained still.

"Just a little bit, Sweetie, just a sip…"He all but pleaded as he raised the spoon to her mouth and waited for her to grant entrance. The gates stayed shut. Dejected and aggravated he let the spoon drop back into the bowl and moved the tray to her nightstand for her to have later; he doubted she would touch it. "I just want you to get back to yourself," he admitted and leant down for a sweet peck. Ariadne did not return the kiss. In fact, she turned her head away from him when he tried. At least he knew she was still capable of hearing…

Miles had called innumerable times. Arthur always giddy when he did; the prospect of her reacting to someone, showing life. He'd take the phone in, gently push it in her hands or hold it to her ear. "It's Miles" he would say, expecting a smile for the old man or even a look of question or rejection from her. Anything. Wishing the old man had the power to make her speak so he could hear her melodious voice again. The bright, conversational one that soothed his soul. He was sick of only hearing her voice when she cried and yelled. The Architect wouldn't acknowledge the phone. Ariadne would stare ahead or look away like Arthur was holding out something stupid for her. As if she was saying, 'Why bring that in here? Waste of your time. Send in the clowns.' Once, Arthur held the phone to her ear. Maybe if she heard the love and concern in her beloved professor's voice she would be moved to at least grant Miles attention. The man on the other end had barely said, 'Hello Ariadne,' before she cowered and looked away. A look that made Arthur feel like he was being cruel to her, waving the phone around in her face.

She hadn't let him get close to her since she stumbled upon the shoebox. For the past week he'd had to sleep on the couch. It started with her pulling his arm off when he spooned her. Arthur kept his hands to himself but tried to sleep close anyway. The closer he got the farther away she moved; eventually, one night she put a pillow in between them. It got to the point where he would wake up in the morning and go downstairs to find her on the couch. Arthur compromised with her the next night, letting her have their room and taking up permanent residency on the couch himself. It was tough trying to sleep every night. Not only was the furniture not long enough for him but he always awoke stiffly; a crick in his neck one day, a crank in his back the next. He lied awake staring at the ceiling until his eyes fell closed. He woke at the slightest sound, fearing that leaving her alone up there wouldn't be in her best interest. Every movement and creak of the floor, he'd ask himself if he'd gotten rid of everything sharp again. He heard her screams and cries for the kids, Cobb and Eames. Heard the bed jostle around with her restlessness. Arthur wanted to go up and comfort her like before but she wouldn't let him. She'd always had the door closed. She got worse if he barged in. Sometimes he laid and listened, gripping the couch to keep him sane and in his place until she stopped. Sometimes he'd sit outside their bedroom door just in case maybe…maybe, she would call for him this time. Let him hold her and make everything better. She never did. All he was privy to was to look on her the three times a day he tried to shove food and water down her throat. Never rewarded with a glance or a smile for his patience.

He realized what she'd done when left hanging in the air, "Don't do this to me," his forehead dropped to meet her temple. "Don't shut me out like this. I love you more than my life and you're treating me like dirt." She never reacted.

Arthur pleaded, "You're the only person left that I care about. I can't lose you too…"

…

The Point Man chose to leave her alone. His feelings bruised though not for the first or last time. He stopped at the doorframe and turned back to face her, "Starving yourself isn't going to bring the baby back. It's not going to bring any of them back."

The architect showed a sign of life when her eyes found his for the first time in a week and half. Before he left the room he declared, "You're punishing yourself. And it's _destroying_ me." He closed the door to the room he no longer shared with her and went downstairs.

xxxxxx

Ariadne wasn't angry with him. She was abashed, penitent, humiliated. Arthur had loved that baby so much. Arthur had been so eager to raise it with her, so eager for them to become parents and she'd let him down. She was mortified when he'd barged into their bathroom and found her wallowing in blood. All over her pants and her hands. She felt inadequate. She couldn't bare him a child; she couldn't even carry it to term. They went through all that trouble and heartache to save the unborn child and she wasn't able to sustain the baby's life. She never wanted Arthur to look at her stomach again; it was empty now, insignificant. His very touch made her uncomfortable. Any form of affection she felt unworthy of. No matter how slight and chaste, it reminded her of the night they conceived and was just further reminder that she was childless… And might never be able to give Arthur the baby he longed for. She was afraid to try for it again. She was afraid that their love (in any form) would lead to such a circumstance. So she blocked him out completely. Believing this to be a safe wall. What she didn't know and what she didn't (or pretended not) to feel wouldn't hurt her or him any further.

That was only part of the reason she'd rendered herself mute. The other was the inconsolable guilt she felt over just being alive. Living, breathing, eating…that was something Cobb and his kids no longer had the privilege to do. All because of her. Arthur couldn't kill her and the baby so he killed Cobb instead. And she was sure, so sure, by the way he was pointing his gun at the children that he might have killed them too. All because of her. If she hadn't pulled him in and fallen in love with him, she would've been just another team member. There was no way he would've killed Phillippa and James over one of his old Architects. She may not even have been pulled into it; Eames and Yusuf hadn't been. Fischer wanted to hurt the leaders of the team, the two to head the operation. Ariadne was a convenient incentive. She was leverage against Arthur and had that not been the case, he would've been unwavering and they'd all be alive. Why should she be happy?

Because Arthur wanted her to. Because Miles was having a hard enough time losing his whole family without worrying about her too. Because she shouldn't hurt any more people. Because were she dead and the other three living, she would be furious if they reacted in such a manner. Because these nightmares being bottled up inside were ripping her to shreds and she needed someone to piece her back together. Because battling the urge to eat was tiring and being sad was never something Ariadne was pro at. Because The Architect was a bubbly, fiery, motivated person and whoever this was in her bed, living with her Arthur was someone she didn't recognize. Because drowning in all of these thoughts mutilated her. Because she was a shell of the woman she wanted to be most.

How could she ever right this wrong? Take a step in the other direction?

xxxxxx

Arthur was brashly cleaning the dishes. He dumped the tomato soup out. She wouldn't consume it. Why would he even try such a stupid thing? Like different soup would magically fix her. Why did he even bother? Why _does_ he bother?

_Because he loves her more than life itself. Because she was a part of him now. _

Rubbing his face, he decided to grab her laptop off of the coffee table and sit to sift through pictures. One of her in her usual attire, laughing, pushing Eames. One of the entire team pre-Inception execution. It was strange because she was two people away from him and it took him back to the time he didn't really know her. When they weren't as connected. It was nice all the same. One of her and her cousin at her cousin's wedding, peach bridesmaids dress. He'd attended that with her and vividly remembers being teased by Eames and Yusuf for not being able to look away all night. A picture of her and him that she'd taken in true college form, over their heads. Pictures tucked away that he didn't know she had. Pictures of them carefree and devoted. Candids that the team must of snuck when they reunited in LA for a couple days. Pictures of Arthur casually watching tv and Ariadne watching him. And the way she was looking at him, with so much reverence and adoration. The smile on her face meant just for him was enough to puncture his core. There was a folder of just Arthur. Pictures he'd smirked for her for or pictures he was oblivious to her taking. Some of him at his desk, some of him cooking. He closed her documents and saw her background for the first time. Right after he'd proposed…they'd eaten in the café and had a nice old French woman take the picture. Ariadne was grinning ear to ear and Arthur's closed smile forming dimples. His arms around her shoulders, hers around his waist, her ring clearly visible on his hip. The most precious thing about this picture was that she was looking up at him and Arthur down at her. In their own world. He remembered trying to smile at the camera but his eyes always gravitating back to hers and never wanting to leave them and that moment.

"_Should we try taking a picture actually looking at the camera, Arthur?"_

"_An attempt might be futile…I only have eyes for you right now."_

"_Well, I'm not complaining." Her eyes shined up at him._

"_Wow, its bright out here."_

_Ariadne giggled, "Must be my shiny new _engagement_ ring?"_

_Arthur freed a hand to rub his rub across her ring finger, "Maybe your million watt smile." They kissed sweetly and then beamed at each other after they pulled away. They heard the click of the camera and saw a flash in their peripheral vision. _

"_Crap." She laughed, "We're not very good at this."_

Sighing, Arthur closed the laptop and leaned back on the couch. He heard The Architect screech. Heard the nightstand toppling and resounding through the ceiling. Heard the sound of metal clanking and glass shattering. Heard Ariadne's voice beseeching, "Get off of me!"

Arthur was on his feet and flying up the stairs in an instant.

Xxxxxx

Sorry I know it's short! Please please review and I'll make the next chapter extra long to make up for it. =)


	9. The Prickly Pear

Thanks _cinematherapy_!

**Chapter 9- Here We Go Round The Prickly Pear**

Ariadne had just wanted a sip of soup. It was the only way she could think of even beginning to make it up to Arthur. Eating the soup he took time to make and bring to her would show appreciation, a sign of life, show that she would start cooperating and bettering herself. The first spoonful was delightful, although the awakening of her taste buds and the drip of it gliding down her throat and resting on a stomach that's been empty for so long was vexatious. It was immediately clear Ariadne wouldn't be able to stomach the whole bowl but she thought she could manage enough to make a visible dent to Arthur. The fourth spoonful was traveling in when it happened. A flashback. All in the matter of a minute. Drops of the creamy tomato fell on her t-shirt and began to look like drops of blood. Suddenly, the bowl in front of her was blood. Confused and petrified, she shrieked and squirmed causing the bowl to topple over on her and staining her peach sheets and pajamas with blood. The ominous feelings inside her clouded her judgment and it seemed that blood clouded her eyes. She tried to crawl away from the bowl off the side of the bed and ended up diving into the nightstand. It jammed into her as it collided with the ground and force threw her on top of it. The lamp smashing beneath her. Suddenly the nightstand was Browning and she was frantically trying to get away from it, getting tangled in the wires of the alarm clock and phone. She cried in fear as she rolled around only making the wires wrap around her neck and arms and waist tighter, kicking the bed in last ditch efforts to get rid of these torturers. The jostling of the bed made the bowl roll over and shatter on the ground. Tomato soup going everywhere. Her mind telling her it was James' blood and it was all over and no matter how she writhed she couldn't get out of his puddle of blood, her clothes and hair now soaked in it. She started screaming, "Get off me! Get off of me!" Her cheek beginning to ache and the feeling that she was bleeding as well settling into her. That's when the room morphed into the warehouse they were held hostage.

And that's when Arthur blasted through the door, hand on his gun. He was expecting someone to be in there with her, hurting her. Three thoughts registered in his mind: Tangled in wires. Glass everywhere. Red substance all over her. His mind hurtled to the conclusion that she was bleeding. He'd left the spoon…could someone stab themselves with a spoon? No. Glass was everywhere. It was the glass. He made haste to get to her, Ariadne still trapped in that alternate universe. He reached out to untangle the wires and she swatted at him, "Get away!"

He ignored her as his hands worked to untangle her despite her protests, "Where are you hurt? Where is the blood from, Ariadne?"

She was freed of the "ropes." Arthur extended his arm to assess the cut on her cheek and she pushed him off, not in her right mind. "You're scaring me, Arthur! Get away!"

"I'm just—" He reached out again.

"NO!" She stood, tripping over herself to press against the bed and get as far away from him as possible. "Where's Eames? I want Eames!"

The Point Man diligently took a step towards her, " NO! I WANT EAMES!"

After giving a shifty glance between Arthur and the bathroom, she made a run for it. Only made it two steps before pieces of the broken bowl pierced her foot. She bent over and howled.

"Just let me carry you over the glass…" He coaxed.

She pushed herself to make it around and lock herself in the bathroom. Wailing for Eames to come save her and the kids.

xxxxxx

He hadn't knocked once before the door swung open and he was ushered in.

"You rang?" Eames drawled out.

Arthur had called him, not knowing what else to do and wanting to give Ariadne whatever she wanted, whatever she asked for. All he told Eames was that he needed him to come over ASAP and that it involved Ariadne. The Architect had long quieted but was still locked in the bathroom. Arthur had however cleaned up the aftermath. In his usual swaggering manner he strolled in, threw his jacket on the couch and bumped something with his foot.

"Arthur, no need to buy me presents now, Love." He picked it up and raised his eyebrows tauntingly.

"Eames. Put that down." His eyes steely.

"Oh, is it for Dear Ariadne? I hope it's not lingerie…is it?"

Arthur stepped forward to snatch it out of The Forger's hands glaring at him but Eames evaded and raised the box above his head. "Let's have a little peek, eh?" He undid the ribbon—

"Eames!"

Opened the lid, "What the hell is this shriveled thing? Are you demented? It looks like a-"

"Baby?"

Eames laid the box on the counter and closed the lid. His entire aura changing to genuine condolence, "Oh…Arthur. I didn't—I'm truly sorry for your loss. I feel despicable."

"You should." Arthur said with no inflection of his voice but while tying the red ribbon carefully back around the box.

"When?"

"About two weeks ago." The Point Man hid his emotions well. Keeping his tone level.

Eames squinted, "And you've kept it?"

"I thought we'd need closure. I wanted us to bury him together but Ariadne—"

Eames leaned on the counter with his fists, "Ariadne. She's not taking it well, is she?"

Arthur exhaled heavily. "She's—Eames…She won't even look at me. She screams for me to get away if I even come near her. She doesn't want me in our room…"

"Ouch."

"She has nightmares and hallucinations and she won't let me help. She won't eat, she just sits in bed and stares at the wall all day…Eames, she's been sleepwalking. Pulling out butcher knives and scissors to cut the baby out. Thinking she can save it…I've had to throw away everything sharp in the house for fear of waking up to find her bleeding to death." His voice broke at last. His gruff tone tattle-tailing how big a toll it's had on him.

Eames rubbed his forehead. "She won't ask for me. No matter what I do, how much space I give her, how much I beg and plead. But she asks for you and that's the most she's done. She reaches for you…" Arthur's eyes started to shine with water uncharacteristically, "Try to get her talking. Please, I can't handle this. I can't lose Ariadne."

He pulled at his hair.

Eames patted his back and nodded sympathetically, "She upstairs?"

The Point Man just gravely answered, "Bathroom," and Eames went looking for the troubled Architect.

xxxxxx

He rapped softly.

"Go away, Arthur."

"It's Eames, Darling."

A brief pause before her face was revealed behind the door. Cautiously the forger asked, "Why don't you come out here and let's have a talk?"

Without saying a word she walked back to her bed, noticing the cleanliness and crisp scent of the new sheets. She hopped on, leaned back and waited for Eames to initiate. Instead the man sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her intently, taking in her disheveled appearance. Eyes sunken in, thinner than before, paler. Her clothes stained with the same soup that dried and coated her hair. Feeling judged and wanting to turn his attention to other matters Ariadne started the conversation. "Did Arthur—"

Eames met her eyes vigilantly and she started over, "Did Arthur tell you about the…"

She couldn't say 'baby.' The man understood and simply hummed his response. Ariadne shielded her eyes with her arms and prepared to open up fully to someone once and for all. "I'm embarrassed."

"Why on earth?"

"Because…my being pregnant was such big deal. To everyone. You, Cobb, Miles, Yusuf…everyone was so supportive. And Arthur was beyond enthusiastic. Everything we did or talked about for months was the—was me being pregnant and what it would be like. He keeps the baby in a box downstairs like a keepsake… I let him down…" She started tearing and her real feelings poured out, "I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't handle enough." Her hands curled into fists, "My stupid body couldn't handle it." Then Ariadne started pounding her stomach frustratingly, "My stupid body killed the baby!"

"Ariadne—" He moved to hold her fists away from herself.

Her eyes held too much anguish for him to bare, "I hate my body…Why should I nourish it? Why give it what it needs? Why protect it when it didn't protect my baby?"

"It's not your fault," He said slowly and taut, "You didn't put yourself in that strenuous position."

"I still hate myself…" She relaxed her body and he released her wrists. Her now free hands rubbing circles on her temples. "James and Philippa should be alive. Not me. If I hadn't been selfish and pursued my relationship with Arthur…"

Gently, Eames interrupted, "Your relationship with Arthur isn't what caused Fischer to act so devilishly. Your relationship with Arthur didn't make Fischer want revenge, Dom's Inception did. It would've been between Dom and his kids anyways. Dom would've died anyway. And it's hard to say whether the kids getting caught in the crossfire could've been avoided. You didn't willfully kill them."

"They were sweet kids…" She hiccupped.

"I know, it's a shame. I'm going to get us some water, ok? "

She shook her head, "No, don't go."

The forger promised as he headed for the door, "I'll be right back."

"Wait, don't leave!"

xxxxxx

"_Auntie Ari! Auntie Ari, don't leave me!"_

xxxxxx

Eames saw it. He saw the change in her eyes. They way her pupils darkened and suddenly she was looking at phantom people. "Arthur, go back! James, don't! Arthur, Stop!"

Eames rushed back and took her head in his hands, "Ariadne, look at me."

"Arthur, let me go! Monster!"

"Look me in the eye."

"Eames?"

"Yes. It's me. Now look around and tell me where you are, what do you see?"

Her eyes searched above and behind him, "We're in the warehouse! I—James!" She lunged over Eames but he held her back.

"No. What do you see with your eyes? What color are the walls?"

Ariadne's eyebrows furrowed and she covered her ears with her hands and began rocking. She heard a loud shrilling sound and couldn't get rid of it no matter how hard she pressed her hands against her ears. Her vision was blurring. She shut her eyes tight and continued rocking and screaming. She felt Eames pry her hands off and force her to look at him. "Ariadne, come on, do this for me. What color are the walls?"

She shook her head to try and physically rid herself of the phantom chaos and concentrated hard on the wall behind Eames, "Peach?"

He nodded, "Good. Where are you sitting?"

Her head turned sharply to the right like someone had called her name. Distractedly she answered, "The floor. The concrete floor…Arthur, go back, _please_! Arthur! _ARTHUR!_" Swiftly the Architect's fingers flew up to her shoulder and began pinching hard while she screwed her eyes shut. Gasping with the pain of her fingernails.

"Stop!" Eames shouted and managed to make her stop pinching. "No. No concrete floor here. Feel it. Feel where you are." He took one of her hands and pushed it on the bed.

Ariadne looked at him, bewildered how could a concrete floor feel so, "It's soft? Am I dreaming?"

"No. Take your totem, hold it and listen carefully."

She did as told and bit her lip, looking him in the eye. Occasionally, darting her eyes to the people running around behind him. "Concrete floors aren't soft. But beds are, aren't they darling? Look and tell me if we're on a bed."

The Architect obeyed and nodded confusingly, suddenly appearing on a bed in the middle of the warehouse. She flinched at the sound of a gunshot. Ariadne's hand moved to meet her shoulder but Eames caught before it did.

"Good. They didn't have beds in the warehouse. And," he quickly walked across the room and retrieved a framed picture of her and Arthur, "They don't have pictures of you and Arthur in the warehouse." Her breathing slowed and he pointed behind him, "They don't have closets full of clothes or high def televisions in the warehouse, do they?"

Ariadne looked around, the warehouse melting away into her true surroundings, the sounds of James' cries and the gunshots tapering into silence. "No."

Eames saw her eyes take on their normal, focused quality. Felt her tense muscles relax, "Where are you?"

"My bedroom."

Eames blew air out of his cheeks and let himself calm down. He stood and started pacing; it would take more than a soul talk to fix her problems. "Are those the episodes you won't let Arthur near you for?"

She affirmed with a dip of her head. "It used to only be nightmares. I've started having flashbacks too…"

"You need to tell him exactly what you're going through."

"He knows I have them…"

Eames became flustered, "What do you do? Lock the door until it goes away by itself? Or until you pass out in fear?"

"Both." She answered like it was a normal thing to do. "Usually I just…" she paused but then hesitantly lifted her shirt. Her stomach was covered with blotches of penny size bruises, indentations of her fingernails. Self-mutilation.

"Ariadne…" He was beside himself with shock.

She shrugged, "The pain clears my mind."

"What the hell…"

"When it's severe enough, I can't think of anything but the pain and then my flashbacks stop. I don't remember my nightmares anymore and I can go back to sleep."

Eames spoke through his baffled state, "Does Arthur know about these?"

She shook her head, "Another reason why I won't let him touch me. It literally hurts. I don't want him to look at me because if he analyzes me for too long he'll notice them. If he sleeps with me, he'll find out I do it at night to wake up and make the monsters go away and he'll make me stop. And I can't stop, Eames" Ariadne breaks into tears again, "I can't stop.. I can't—" Her fingers grasp at her shoulder again and Eames rushes to make her stop.

Eames decided to change the subject to keep her from being tempted to pinch again, "Why do you call out for me?"

"Because you saved us, I guess… When you came, it all stopped. I feel like if you show up, then it's over."

"You have to let him help you."

She raised her voice, "He's a monster to me when it's happening!"

"Is he a monster to you when it's not?" The forger countered.

Ariadne swallowed and shook her head. No, when Arthur wasn't the monster in her mind, she was. Eames kneeled in front of her bed and she turned crisscross applesauce to him. He stared into her eyes meaningfully, "If you feel like you need to push him away when your mind flares up, ok. But don't push him away when it doesn't. You feel guilty over what happened with the Cobbs and the baby but look at what you're doing to Arthur. He is a hot bloody mess down there. He comes undone just hearing your name because he thinks you despise him, you blame him. He's terrified over you. He loves you so much and Ariadne, I don't know what'll happen to him should he lose you. Please, be kind to him."

He stood, "I know my nauseatingly in love best friends are here somewhere, you just have to work to find them. And stop doing _this_," he gestured to her stomach and the tainted skin, "to yourself. Please. Call me instead. If you need my help, I'm in Paris for a while."

Arthur quietly looked through the crack. "Thank you, Eames," She smiled at the forger and then dipped her head for him to kiss the top of it. Dejectedly Arthur turned and headed down the stairs before the forger did the same. Arthur thanked the man graciously before he left, Eames telling him to get the shoebox out of the house for Ariadne's sake and letting it slip that she'd been harming herself so Arthur could monitor it. It really was a help but it mostly made Arthur more nervous and upset.

xxxxxx

An hour later Arthur was looking out the window and sipping some water when there was a creak from the stairs. He turned to look and there she was on the bottom steps. Freshly showered and clothed. Damp hair pinned out of her face. The only words he could find to say as her eyes wonderfully locked with his were, "You're up."

Silently, she made her way to him. Arthur not knowing what to do, stood frozen. A warm, bright feeling surged through him when she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. Tentatively, not knowing how she'd react, he brought his hand to the back of her head to hold her closer and kissed her hair. "I'm sorry," She muffled.

He began rubbing her back, "No, you have every right to grieve."

"But no reason to push you away," She surfaced to look up at him. "I _did_ eat some of the soup, "she offered.

He shook his head, "Don't worry about the soup. Are you still hungry?" He smoothed her damp hair back.

"Yes."

"Do you feel like going out for a celebratory dinner?"

Missing the feeling of his skin she wrapped her arms around his neck, "What are we celebrating?"

Arthur put his forehead on hers, "This."

"Ok," She smiled, "Let me get my bag."

Xxxxxx

Review por favor.


	10. The Idea

Thanks to my reviewers! Sorry bout the wait til the update.

**Chapter 10- The Idea**

"Driving or walking?"

"I think fresh air would be nice," She announced as she came down the stairs.

They walked the glistening streets of Paris to their destination: 'Frais Mange' or Fresh Eats in English. It was a place that used only fresh produce and meats. Very healthy. Their food was far from greasy and fried; it was lightweight and natural so the pair thought it fit for Ariadne's return to digestion. Her city made her smile. She'd almost forgotten the effervescent feeling the twinkling lights used to put in her stomach. She ogled at all the window displays and Arthur relished the display of the smile he'd thought she'd lost. She fell out of step with him abruptly when she paused at a window.

"Aww, aren't you just the cutest thing? Yes, you are." She poked at the glass.

Arthur stepped behind her to find she was cooing to a window of puppies. One of them standing up and pawing at the glass, his tail wagging. When Ariadne would poke the glass he would try to nudge his nose, his panting mouth looking like an enthusiastic smile. Arthur smirked to himself; Ariadne affected all boys. "Hi, there!" She beamed at the little creature.

Filled with an unexplainable urge to reward her for that smile, Arthur spontaneously offered, "Ari, do you want a puppy?"

Ariadne kept her interaction with the puppy, "Mr. and Mrs. Dubois said 'No Pets.'"

"And yet, that wasn't the question."

"Honestly…I would love a puppy—"

Arthur turned the corner and opened the shop door, "Come on. Pick one out," ready to provide whatever she wanted, even if she only wanted it a smidge, for that smile.

This is when she finally turned her attentions from the dog in the window, "Arthur," It was solemn and rejecting and followed with a slight shake of the head.

He was confused to say the least but let the door close and walked back to her side, "Why not?"

Ariadne shrugged, "I can barely take care of myself right now…much less another creature." The upturn of her lips was forlorn, poking at the potential pet again.

Arthur's warm breath tickled her ears, "One day, I'll get you a puppy. And I won't take no for an answer." he whispered. He was rewarded with bright eyes trying to keep a giggle back. They continued on their way. "What breed would you want?"

"What breed would _you_ want?"

"Whatever breed _you_ want." He teased.

The Architect chewed her lip while she thought. The Point Man had trouble looking where he was going, hypnotized by just that. "Maybe a…Jack Russell Terrier? Or a beagle? Something small."

"And what shall we call this Jack Russell Terrier or Beagle or something small?"

"T-Rex. Or just Rex."

Her and her imagination. He still didn't have the whimsical view of things she did but some of her curiosity had rubbed off on him, "And the reasoning?"

Ariadne tossed her hair, preparing to go into a long, thought out spiel on the origin of her desire to name the dog, 'Rex.' "Remember when we watched Jurassic Park a couple months ago?"

Arthur allowed himself a chuckle. She glared at him and continued, "I said my favorite dinosaurs were T-Rex's. And what did Debbie Downer say?" She pointed at him. "You said: 'No one loves T-Rex's, Ari. They're the bad guys that eat everyone.' And I replied with my usual flair: 'They're misunderstood Arthur. They eat everyone because they're unloved.'"

"Ah. I remember." He nodded, amused.

"They're just so clumsy and they have those little arms that can't do anything. They must feel so unwanted…" Her eyes lit up and she grabbed his shoulder, "We should get a puppy from the Pound!"

Arthur furrowed his brows, "Aren't those dogs ridden with fleas? And their fur is scruffy and matted…You sure you don't want a properly bred dog from a store?" He sounded perfectly snooty.

"No. I want to save an abandoned puppy from the emotional state of the T-Rex's."

As always, anything Ariadne wanted, Ariadne got. "A dinosaur from the pound it is."

They laughed with each other until someone ran into them, pushed their legs and kept running. Giggling all the way. This someone was a little brunette boy with a bowl cut, not looking where he was going. A woman of taller stature and blonde tresses pushed passed Arthur and Ariadne with an apology, "Je suis tellement desole," and ran after the munchkin, "Raoul! De revenir ici!" The couple watched as the mother caught her young and began tickling him. Laughter of the little boy pierced the air and they were joined by a bulky man. The three happy family members continued on their way, the parents each with one of the boy's hands, swinging him between paces. Carefully, Arthur tore his eyes away from the scene to check on Ariadne. The Architect's own bubbly and excited demeanor from the minute before had disappeared without a trace. She stared down the three figures with despondency looming on her features. Arthur swallowed. He didn't know how to approach her, didn't know what the right thing to say would be. So he stood and waited for her to make the call. He watched her right hand snake up her arm and her index and thumb slowly putting pressure on the skin between them. She was trying to be subtle; she bit her lip to keep the whimper of the pain back while she stared at the figures still walking in the distance.

Arthur put his head in the crook of her neck and covered her hand with his. Upon contact, she stopped and let her fingers fall flat against her shoulder as if her hand was just resting there. When the shadows of the happy family had vanished, she took her chance looking up at Arthur. Realizing he was already looking at her made her feel vulnerable. She darted her eyes away from him, the moment feeling too awkward for her. He'd caught her hurting herself.

"Come on…" He offered quietly. His fingers brushed hers intent on holding her hand in comfort but she flinched away. Clutching the strap of her bag for dear life, she walked onward like she was alone.

xxxxxx

When they'd arrived at the restaurant, the wait wasn't even a minute. The hostess grabbed two menus and a wine menu and politely asked them to follow. Arthur glanced at Ariadne to see if she would acknowledge him again and she did. She mumbled something about him going ahead and needing the bathroom.

Her phone was fished out of her bag once she stepped in the powder room. Soon, Eames' voice graced her ears. "Hello, dearest. Did you do as I said?"

She choked out, "Yes. We're out to eat together. But—"

"But what?"

"We were having a good time. And then this cute family of three bumped into us and they were young and happy and tickling their little boy and it ruined things. I hate myself again…and I'm shutting him out again and I want to pinch myself so bad and I don't know how to stop."

"Ok…" He huffed on the other end, "Shutting him out isn't punishing whatever force took that baby, it's just hurting Arthur. Fischer wanted to tear us all apart…don't do his dirty work for him. Don't let him win, Ariadne. Every time you hurt yourself, you're hurting Arthur and your future family. Just because that beautiful trio of people won't be you in a few months anymore, doesn't mean that won't be you in a year or so, yes?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful. Now go love on that Point Man." He clicked off and the weight on her shoulders lifted again. She found the table he'd been seated at and kissed him on the cheek from behind before seating herself across from him. The girl could tell what he wanted to ask, "I'm fine."

He was doting as always. They'd shared a small entrée because easing her stomach back into digesting would prove a daunting, careful task. They reveled in the other's presence like old times. He could tell that every now and again she would struggle with her thoughts but cover over them. Put on a smile and work through it with a change of small talk. She wasn't all better but she wasn't all gone. She was trying and that's all he could ask for. All and all, the dinner proved to be a success and both left satisfied. As soon as they began their journey back home, Ariadne laced her hand with his as they walked. This brought indelible joy to the man beside her.

Xxxxxx

Home sweet home. Arthur followed her upstairs to retrieve his bed clothes and nothing more. Needless to mention, he was surprised when upon reaching their bedroom, she turned and caressed his face. "I miss you."

Bringing his hand over hers he told her he felt the same. She tiptoed to kiss him and a spark set off. He wrapped his arms around her and intensified the kiss. Making it more arduous and passionate. Making her regret building walls between them, making her remember how easily he could break them down. The Architect seemed to fuse into him, making up for lost time. Both of them coming undone, succumbing to the fierce love for each other that had been repressed since the incident. Wanting to be closer to her, he pushed her two steps back to press her against the door.

Xxx

_Boom. Thud. "Arthur!" They pinned Ariadne against the wall, lifted her shirt and held an evil looking needle to her stomach. Arthur asked wearily, "What is that?" Fischer replied, "A needle…one frequently used in abortion clinics…_

Xxx

Panic overcame her and cooled her to the moment. She shoved Arthur off of her, "Get away from me!" The short flashback had immediately faded back into the real world and Ariadne slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing what she'd done.

His eyes were full of hurt and bewilderment. "I'm so sorry, Arthur."

Ever the Point Man, he cleared his throat and straightened his suit, "It's fine. Goodnight, Ariadne." He picked his pajamas off of the chair in the corner and went downstairs.

xxxxxx

No more than fifteen minutes later when he was tucking the corners of the sheet into the cracks of the couch did he hear her come back down the stairs, changed into her own pajamas. Ariadne came to stand in front of Arthur, her knees touching his. "You don't have to sleep on the couch anymore. It's your room too."

Arthur looked up at her, "You need your space."

The Architect took the initiative to grab his hands and weave her fingers in them. She swung them sweetly, "I'm fine."

"You keep saying that but one second you're like this and the next you avoid me like the plague. I'll stay."

"I don't want to sleep without you anymore." She brought his hands to her face.

He didn't want to spend another night away from her either but, "If you feel the same way tomorrow night, I'll move back upstairs."

She agreed and went back to their bedroom.

xxxxxx

When Arthur woke again it was midnight and he'd had a nightmare. One where he was back in the warehouse and his hands were steadily holding a gun to Cobb's head. He squinted his eyes and pulled the trigger. The gun melted away into blood that seeped through his fingers. Arthur turned his head to check on Ariadne and she'd disappeared. He looked down to Cobb's body and it was morphed into Ariadne's. Her eyes were glazed over, blood oozed out of a hole in her head. In his dream, he fell to his knees by her body and cradled her. Yelled her name over and over, her lifeless body unresponsive. Then Fischer roughly snatched a handful of her hair and started dragging her away from Arthur.

He awoke mid gasp, clawing at the air for her. His breaths heavy, he checked his die and decided to check on her. Arthur swung his legs over the edge of the couch and found Ariadne lying in front of him. His dream was too fresh in his mind. He searched his hands for blood, none there, so he looked back down at the woman on the floor. After further inspection he saw she was curled up to keep herself warm, she'd brought her pillow down and laid out a blanket beside the couch.

When Ariadne woke again, she was tucked into her own bed with the comfort of Arthur's body wrapped around her. Content, she drifted off again easier.

xxxxxx

Ariadne was breathing deeply, rhythmically, normally. She lay on her back, head turned away from Arthur, one leg bent under her, one sprawled out somewhere, one hand under her head, one just under her chest. Arthur lay on his side, watching her. He hadn't slept since he brought her upstairs. Slowly, bravely, he lifted her shirt, terrified of what it looked like. (Eames had described it as brutal.) When he saw her bruises, his breath hitched and he started to tear. Gently, barely, lightly, he ran his fingers along her darkened, purpling skin. How could she do this? How could he let her? He'd thrown away everything sharp…what could he do to keep her from this? Declaw her like a cat? He felt helpless.

He must've tickled her because she twitched. Or maybe he pressed too hard on her sensitized, abused skin. She rustled and awakened. "Arthur what are you doing?" Ariadne looked down to the area of skin he was brushing and sighed, turning away.

"Baby, why are you doing this?" He grazed over her stomach again with the back of hand so she'd look at him and see the water building in his dark orbs.

"I—I don't know…"

Arthur sighed, rubbed his face with his palm and then scooted down on the bed so he could kiss her bruises. Ariadne winced, "Arthur, please stop." He met her eyes and she explained, "You haven't kissed my stomach since I was-since-" Her voice began breaking.

"Ari…" He crawled back up to be eye level with her. "You listen to me, I don't—I couldn't love you any less."

"When I was pregnant, you told me I'd never been more beautiful to you…"

Arthur combed his hands through her hair, "Of course I did…you get more beautiful to me every day no matter what's in your belly, whether it's a baby or Taco Bell." That made Ariadne laugh and Arthur just loved seeing her smile again so much, he couldn't help but cover her lips with his. When he pulled away, he bore into her eyes with his, "Promise me you'll stop doing this to yourself."

"Arthur—"

"Promise me, Ari."

"I—"

"Promise me." He all but begged. His eyes were dark and pleading, watering.

It broke her resolve and just like he wanted from her, she wanted nothing more to see him smile again. To see him happy, to take his troubles away. So she put her hand on his cheek and said, "I promise that—I'll try."

He swallowed the bittersweet answer and cuddled up to spoon her, "That's all I ask."


	11. The Reality

Big thank you to _muffinftw _and _BailorWilkes _for alerting/favoriting.

**Chapter 11: The Reality**

Ariadne was chilling on the sofa drinking a cup of tea when Arthur excitedly came to join her. He sat to face her on the couch, his dimples were pressed in, "Guess what?"

"Hm?" She lowered the stifling hot cup and tore her attention from the French morning talk show. It was about 9:30 am and one of her favorite French indie actresses was being interviewed. Ah well…

"I've been offered another job."

Ariadne turned down the volume of the TV and faced him. Suddenly, his news seemed more important than Catherine Deneuve and new project, "Dreamsharing?"

"Yes. And it's perfect. Only three weeks of work, one level extraction, it's well paid. Starts tomorrow."

"Good for you." She smiled.

Ari didn't mean it to sound sarcastic and jealous-hearted but it was the way Arthur took her phrasing. He reached out for her shoulder to make it up to her, "I've secured the Architect position for you. If you want it."

Ariadne sipped her tea again. There was plethora of reactions running circles in her eyes. First was excitement and fire, followed by perception and concern and ultimately the ones that settled were acceptance and disappointment, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Being exposed to your mind might help you get over this."

She countered too pessimistic to be characteristic for the Architect, "Or it may make it worse…", and set her cup down on the end table.

He sighed. Arthur had hoped this offer would brighten her outlook not dampen it. "I'll call and cancel then."

"No, you should do it." He'd been just as excited as she started out to be. The Architect didn't want to keep Arthur from that awe-inspiring world just because she wasn't stable enough to go back to it yet, "I think time apart may do us good."

He was a taken aback. Had the three and a half weeks that she'd ignored his existence not been enough? They were barely starting to spend time together, now. Just starting to ease back into their relationship and she wanted to be away from him already? He wasn't sick of her, not even close; was she already sick of him? He turned his head and shifted his position.

She realized he'd taken her suggestion the wrong way (again…) and tried to smooth it over, "I mean—you passively trigger a lot of my issues." Yeah, Ari…that helped. Did she even know how to communicate with him anymore? She retraced her thoughts and rewired her phrasing to be more positive, "Maybe breathing room and not having them so often will make me better. And I'll take the next job with you…" She rubbed his shoulder.

"If you're sure."

xxxxxx

That night he woke to her crying in the bathroom again. It wasn't in fear, though. It was sadness, longing maybe.

She wanted to dream. Ariadne craved creation and dreams like crack. It'd been so long since she'd felt the familiar prick of the PASIV needle, heard the hissing sound of Somnacin being injected into her veins. It'd been forever since she'd had a dream in which she was in control, in which evil shades of Arthur and agonizing memories didn't chase and torture her. The thing keeping her back was Mal. What if she changed her mind and agreed to go with Arthur and work again? What if constantly being under fueled her subconscious? What if the Somnacin empowered her regrets? What if she not only developed a shade of Arthur to rival Mal but a shade of Cobb and sweet Philippa and innocent James? What if her hallucinations got worse? It was hard enough keeping Arthur in the loop and keeping their relationship alive and breathing as it was to then throw in figures of her past to constantly stalk her while dreaming, hallucinating or not. What if they haunted her? Followed her like imaginary friends even when she was free of nightmares and flashbacks? She would have to wait out her issues before dreamsharing again, it was apparent.

Desire would consume her in the days to come. She decided that calling on Eames would be the best way to quell her turbulent mind and appear healthy, unfazed and ineffably happy to Arthur. For his sake and hers and the sake of their future together, she would fix this without his help. Ariadne wouldn't drag him under and burden him with issues. He had enough of his own and she was positive he was working through those without her. She was convinced he had his own nightmares, issues and guilt and he obviously hadn't come to her with those. Ariadne would follow suit and hopefully, within time, they'd be that inexorably strong couple they'd been before Fischer deigned himself capable of ripping them apart.

That was the other thing. Their communication was stilted. She had worked so hard and they had come such a long way. They'd been at the point where they could and would tell each other everything with a mere look. Nothing was awkward to bring up, she didn't trip over her tongue and struggle with her meanings before…he just knew. The realization of the giant steps backward their relationship had been dragged was scourging.

xxxxxx

His first day back to dreaming was cathartic. It was a blessing that he could immerse himself in his research and let his mind rest from the turmoil of worrying over his fiancée. His co-workers were very compliant, very work oriented. There was no teasing from Eames to ruffle his feathers… It was very much like a vacation in and of itself. His leader was self-sufficient. He knew exactly what he wanted but was open to suggestions, especially from Arthur as he'd made it clear that The Point Man had his utmost respect. There was no need for a forger on such a simplistic job and the chemist was in and out; he was really only necessary when they needed someone to monitor their time under Somnacin influence. When it came to the architect…Arthur couldn't help his mind from slightly wandering to think of The Architect. It was too easy to compare the one he was working with to Her and too easy for the man compared to lose every time. They had a nice quiet lunch in. No prodding into anyone's personal life, just companionable silence. Silence…it was almost in him to miss the jabbing remark of Eames and the bubbling laughter of his girl.

When Arthur came home, the house was eerily sound. He set his briefcase down and scanned the room for brown curls. A feeling that he shouldn't have left her alone set in his stomach. He passes the kitchen, pots and pans in the sink…the tv was blaring some French cooking show as he walked through the still living area. Thank God, she was peacefully napping on the length of the couch. Flour smudged on her face, arms looking uncomfortably tangled and the tacky apron her friend had bought her back in college was draped off the couch arm. It was one that said, "In-Seine for the City of Louvre," which was a pitiful pun for "Insane for the City of Love." The Eiffel Tower was printed in the corner and little hearts danced around it. Sensing someone's eyes on her, her own fluttered open and grin spread over her face. "Hey you," Arthur smirked and nudged her with his knee, "Falling asleep waiting for me, are you?"

Ariadne hummed a response and folded her arms over herself, "I'm cold."

"I'll get you a blanket." He proffered and started for one but Ariadne lunged for his hand and pulled him down on top of her.

Her lips were curved mischievously, "Or you could just warm me up…" she slithered her arms around his neck and kissed him perkily.

"I'm crushing you." Arthur lifted himself up, a laugh in his throat. When she wouldn't budge or release her hold, he rolled off the couch and landed on his back with an oomph. Ariadne was on top of him now and giggling her head off. She leant down to assault him with more warm, wet kisses and he smiled in between them declaring, "I think- I'll like—this- job if this is—what- I'll come home to- every day." Arthur pinched her side and she squealed and released him from the blissful contact. He pinched her a couple more times in her ticklish spot, laughed as she squirmed and playfully slapped at him. They eased down and she just rested her chin on his chest and smoothed his strands of gelled hair back into place. He laid and adored her for a moment before he asked, "What smells so good?"

Her eyes grew and she gasped like she completely forgot. Immediately she hopped off of him and floated to the kitchen. "Feast your eyes on Boeuf Bourguignon, Tartiflette and Salade Aveyronaise courtesy of Famille Bourgeois." Now it was Arthur's turn for his eyes to grow big and his mouth to gape. He loved when Ariadne cooked. Her grandparents had been pioneers of authentic French Cuisine and had educated their granddaughter well. There were several dishes Ariadne made that Arthur was chronically obsessed with. Arthur had eaten at his share of fancy, five star restaurants in his day but out of them all, she made the best sweet potato casserole, the most divine of chicken cordon bleu's and a killer Pansette de Gerzat. (He was still trying to wrap his head around the French name for certain meals and what ingredients they used but he'd remembered that dish because it was that spectacular.) If Ariadne wasn't so pretty and artistic and everything she already was, he'd still be this in love with her based on her cooking alone. "And in English…"

Ariadne made him sit as she made their plates and brought them to the table. "Just try it." It turned out that the Boeuf Bourguignon was roast beef that had been stewed in red wine. The Tartiflette was a Savoyard potatoes au gratin dish, with Reblochon cheese (his favorite of the underappreciated French cheeses she'd introduced him to) and shredded pork. The salad was a wedge each with ripe tomatoes, Roquefort cheese and walnuts. Damn, she was good. Everything was tender and savory on his taste buds. He ate until he felt sick. Sometimes he wondered if she wasn't unlike that witch in the Hansel and Gretel story…cooking him the most delectable of entrees just to fatten him up so she could eat him. He cleaned the kitchen. In their normal routine, whoever cooked wouldn't have to clean. Although, if they cooked together, they cleaned together. He described the monotonous details of the job, his new team mates and his day's events to her as he scrubbed down the plates and wiped down the countertops. She relayed the drama of her new favorite television series and mused over what she might do the next day. They changed into their sleep clothes and she cuddled up to him to watch tv, during which she fell asleep drawing skyscrapers and cathedrals on his forearm.

Maybe this job was good for them. The difference that eight hours of separation had made was phenomenal. They were practically on the same path they were before the incident. He couldn't describe how good it felt to come home to her grinning face again. For her to pull him on top of her, to cook for him, to snuggle with him before bed. At this rate, they'd be getting married as planned in August. They would pull through this traumatic experience victoriously. Arthur was sure.

xxxxxx

He heard her talking. Muffling her voice. He believed it was coming from the closet if the light under the cracks was any clue. Arthur sat up, wondering whether or not he should go in and check on her. The thought crossed his mind that it might be possible for her to kill herself with a hanger. He caught one word that made his attention zero in on her conversation. "Secret." Arthur leaned forward in his spot and stained his eardrums. "He's asleep. I know…I just needed to hear your voice. Yeah, I think I'll be ok the rest of the night. Thanks…You know, I don't think I could do this without you...ok-" The light in the closet went out and the doorknob began to twist. Arthur laid back down and feigned sleep. The Architect crawled into bed, locked her cell phone and pulled the covers over her shoulders again. She grew silent, rested her eyelids.

Arthur's eyes, on the other hand, flewopen. Aching suspicion swirled within him because of her last words.

"Night Eames. _I love you too_."

Xxxxxx

Reviews would be niiiiiiiice.


	12. The Motion

Big thank you to _cinematherapy, Iris Pont, _and _xahhax_. :)

**Chapter 12: The Motion**

Ariadne and Eames were like brother and sister...maybe niece and uncle…best friends even. So it was plausible that she would tell him "I love you" as she hung up. The "secret" he'd spent half the night and the better part of the morning brainstorming about was nothing. He'd woken up halfway through that part of the conversation and had no context to put it in. "He's asleep" and "I just needed to hear your voice" was explainable. She thought Arthur was asleep and didn't want to disturb him but needed someone to talk to. It was innocent. Arthur was simply paranoid.

xxxxxx

Home from work and Arthur's nostrils were greeted with the promising smell of her cooking. He walked into the kitchen, hung his suit jacket on the back of the chair and dipped his finger into the butternut squash sauce she'd had cooling on the counter. To die for. Jauntily, he strutted to the couch and leaned over the back, expecting to see her asleep again. Ready to engage in playful friskiness with her again. He was let down when her figure was absent from the white leather cushions and decided to go exploring for her. Arthur made his way up the stairs, a few creaked along his way. He was near the top of the stairs when—

"Oh shit—I think Arthur's home, I've got to go." Her panicked voice rushed out a goodbye and flung the phone on the bed as Arthur opened the door. All too eager for his taste (and standing in the middle of the room like that's all she was doing before he'd entered) she pulled him downstairs to the dinner table.

Again…he hadn't heard her conversation. She'd probably heard him and hadn't realized how much time had passed. Ariadne was just adamant about getting as much time with Arthur as possible: He was home, it was Arthur time, she was getting off the phone in a rush because she'd missed him. It was innocent. Arthur was simply paranoid. _Yeah_, that's it.

xxxxxx

It'd been a particularly stressful day. The architect had gone for coffee that morning and left the designs for their level at the café. When he'd gone back? Of course, no designs. Ariadne would never have been so careless. Obviously, it would be a risk to use them anyway and thankfully neither his name nor any of the team's plans/information were in that sketchbook. (Or Arthur would've strangled him.) The day was filled with thinking up a new level complete with a whole new game plan, new paradoxes, new concepts, new feelings and a shitload of research for Arthur. If She were the architect, She would have no problem dreaming up something new on the spot.

Needless to say, he was more than elated (or relieved) to leave the job behind and come home to Her. The moment Arthur opened the door, the smell of her Ratatouille simmering on the stove magically lifted his mood. Ariadne was leaning against the counter, back to him. He loved when she wore her hair in messy buns on top of her head (At least he thought they were called messy buns), especially on the days she was too lazy to put on one of her scarves. He could see her porcelain neck from her hairline down and all the patches of skin that her unruly tresses and ornate scarves normally covered. The Architect was in her red polka dot pajama shorts and red tank set that showed off just how petite she really was. Her slim waist, her built legs…

"Eames, stop!" She giggled.

What? The Point Man let the door swing close to announce his presence. Ariadne's shoulder tensed and un-tensed in a fraction of a second, something only the most trained of eyes would catch. "Arthur's home." When she turned around, her face was bright and cheerful for him. "Yeah, I should go, I haven't seen him all day." Arthur winked (covering suspicion) at her while he routinely hung his trench coat up and shed his suit jacket. "Ok, Clari, je vous appellerai demain." Wait. Clari? Either his ears were deceiving him or she hadn't been speaking to her a second ago. She was giggling with the forger. "Vous aime trop, au revoir."

"Who was that, Ari?" his voice sounded genuinely curious, devoid of skepticism.

Ariadne kissed him on the cheek, "Oh, just Clarisse." She then got to work pulling sprigs of oregano from the fridge and sprinkling it on top of her finished meal.

He nodded and helped her set the table. Again, she was probably speaking French and a word that sounded or rhymed with Eames popped out as he walked in. And the different dialects were normal because she always went back and forth between French and English when speaking with her friends. It was innocent. Arthur was simply paranoid. That's it. He needed to quit looking for something that wasn't there.

xxxxxx

The Point Man unlocked their door and opened it, hearing, "Arthurisherethankyoubye!" in a vomit of whispers. When his eyes fell on her, she was lounging on the couch reading a magazine. His trained eye noticed her cell phone on the floor and the latest edition of the National Geographic. That was Arthur's magazine of choice. Ariadne never read that magazine. She would rather delve into the structures of the new edition of the Architecture magazines she subscribed to or read the edition of Time on the internet. Once and a while, she would flip through the pictures but only for a fleeting few moments and then her imaginative mind would get too bored and go hungry for something creative.

Nonsense. She could've gotten bored and read it on last resort.

If she'd been reading it so long, Arthur, she wouldn't still be on the first page, would she? And she would never read through the magazine word for word. She flipped through the pictures to get inspired and then tossed it.

"Hey." The Architect must have noticed his expectant look to the kitchen and flicker of despondency when he found it empty. "I burned dinner." She's never burned a meal in her life and when she had she'd been more embarrassed than that. In her family of gourmet French cooks, to burn dinner was a travesty and each generation was taught so well that it never happened. Ariadne was always careful and precise when cooking, she treated it with the same seriousness and devotion as she did sketching. To burn dinner was not the Bourgeois way and certainly not a capability Ariadne had… He doesn't even smell the char or sense a trace of smoke. "Sorry, I guess we'll have to make sandwiches tonight or something…"

It was plausible he was hearing things. She was bored to death. Sometimes Ariadne would spend all day cooking. She could've burnt it early this morning and the smoke and smell had been chased out. It was innocent. Arthur was simply paranoid. He could handle eating simple sandwiches for dinner, it wasn't a big deal. But when he opened the door, she w—No. He was hearing things. He needed to stop this. Arthur smiled and offered to pick them up some sandwiches from the deli across the street and Ariadne got up and set to work in the kitchen again, saying she'd make some lemonade and prepare a fruit salad by the time he got back.

xxxxxx

"No. Arthur and I haven't—since…I don't know, the week of the incident?"

What on earth was she talking about? They haven't what? They'd definitely spoken…they'd definitely gone out together, they'd definitely done a lot of things. Except, well maybe-Why on earth would she be talking about _that _and to _who_? Who was he kidding…he knew who and he could confirm it from the phone history once she hung up.

"I don't know…we just don't. I haven't felt the need to, really."

They must be talking about something else. There was no way she was discussing _their_ intimacy with _Eames_. What did she mean by haven't felt the need to? Had she not felt attracted to him like that lately? Sure they hadn't been very passionate lately but they still loved each other…they still stole kisses and cuddled. He silently closed the door back while she said her goodbyes and reentered. "Hey Arthur." She halfheartedly greeted him and then asked him to help her finish their spaghetti dinner.

He heard her in the bathroom that night. Panting, "I'm—I—", a whimper in between, "Purple. Purple track shorts. And—a—my t-shirt, my T-Shirt from our trip to Canada." Another whimper, "Mm…mhm. They're cream—tile. My bathroom. I'm lying on my bathroom floor." Silence…her breath was slowing down, "He's asleep….I know…no, he wouldn't understand."

Understand what? How could he understand if she doesn't tell him anything? They have halfhearted conversations about how Miles is doing, and the events on his job, and who was on the morning talk show and 'look how pretty the sky is today.' Arthur felt her twitch in her sleep, he heard her cry and whimper when the nightmares woke her each night. Arthur knew when Ariadne excused herself to their bathroom or his office or their bedroom or anywhere and heard her coaxing herself to be ok…he knew she was still having problems but she wouldn't come to him. No matter how bad it got, Ariadne never curled up against him and asked him to rock her sleep, to whisper sweet things and tell her it would all be ok. She never described the dreams beyond the screams he heard at night, she never asked him for help and when he brought it up, she'd either get mad at him for doing so or come up with a mumbled answer and flee the room or change the subject. How could he understand is she doesn't tell him anything? All he wants is to understand. To help.

"Ok. Thank you, Eames, for doing this," she muttered under her breath, "Bye."

There was no explaining what that could've been. It certainly sounded like—but he didn't know the context. Yes, she was describing what she was wearing, yes, she was describing her surroundings, yes, she was panting and stuttering but…no. It was coincidence that she was talking about her and Arthur's lack of intimacy earlier. That's what was triggering this parallel in his mind. That's why he was unrightfully incriminating her without any concrete evidence. But at the end when she thanked Eames, did Arthur detect a hint of shame? Was there guilt there? Maybe this wasn't so innocent. Maybe Arthur wasn't simply paranoid…But then again…she always panted and stuttered when the hallucinations grabbed hold of her. She always described things to help her mind understand what was there and what wasn't…but did she need Eames for that? Would there be any need for her to feel guilty and shameful for that?

xxxxxx

He wasn't proud of himself. He wasn't proud of questioning her fidelity. After all, he should believe with every cell in his body that she was his as she'd promised and would never betray him. Yet, he sat in his corner of the hotel ballroom (where the rest of his team was going through last minute preparations before the execution of the job the next day) and listened in to their home phone line. He'd wired it this morning while she was still sleeping. He'd rigged it so that when their line was active, it would pop up on his laptop screen and he could slide his earphones in and eavesd—observe. It'd popped up once but it had only been dear Miles checking up on her. He was just waking from a run through, when he saw his laptop flashing across the room. When he tied in, they were already halfway through their conversation.

The Architect sounded frazzled, "It's not working. It's taking too long! Eames!" She shrieked.

"Have patience, Ari, just listen to my voice, ok?" A strong British accent smoothed and drawled to her.

"I have to see you. Please."

Eames sputtered, "Are you daft? If you don't want to tell Arthur that we talk, I don't think you'll want him showing up and finding me there."

She swallowed, "I'll come to you."

"Aria—"

"I'm leaving now."

When Arthur pulled up at the end of the day, Ariadne was just disappearing behind their door with takeout bags. And when he'd come in after her, she'd pretended like she'd been there all day. That she'd cooked that food herself, that she watched the morning talk show and her afternoon cooking show and that she'd sketched and waited for him and missed him. And she pretended and she pretended and she pretended. It was like she was playing house with him for his benefit. She was plastering smiles on her face and kissing him like she should. Like a good little fiancée. And he'd begun to count her lies. And he'd begun to count her pauses and her actions to fill that space. And he'd begun to count her kisses as lies and actions to fill space. Because she was innocent, right Arthur? Because you're simply paranoid?

Suspicion laid its filthy eggs inside his head.  
And with every count of her lies one would hatch.

As Bewilderment.

As Curiosity.

As Jealousy.

As FEAR.

He slept with his ears open.


	13. The Act

Big thank you to _Lazarus76, cinematherapy, _and_ xx99soccerz_

**Chapter 13: The Act**

"It's great... Yeah; we extracted today. No, no, I'm on my way home. It went perfect…. You? Wow, well I'm sure you enjoy being home for a while. The weather in Mombasa is impeccable this time of year…She's doing better. Not as many nightmares so I believe she's pulling through. Ariadne is a firecracker. I have. We'll see. I will, I will. You'll be one of the first to receive an invitation. I want you to be a groomsman as well-if you wouldn't mind. Yes, I think Miles is going to walk her down the aisle, or well- that's what we'd discussed a while back. Yes, thank you for calling and checking on our girl. I appreciate it. Same. Take care, Yusuf."

xxxxxx

He was getting a drink from the fridge when she'd emerged from the downstairs bathroom. Surprised, she hid her cell phone behind her back. "Well you're home early…how'd the extraction go?"

"Perfect. Smooth." He brought his drink to his lips and sifted through the mail. He gestured to her with the bill in his hand, "Who called?"

She looked at her phone like she hadn't noticed she was holding it, "Ea—eh-Yusuf!"

Arthur's sifting halted. After two blinks, he began tearing open one of the envelopes, his voice sounding normal, "Is he doing well?"

"Yup. He, uh, said something about a new job. He's in, uh, Brazil right now."

He hummed. Tossing the bill to the side and flipping through the new Architecture magazine she subscribed to. "The weather in Brazil is impeccable this time of year…" He swallowed the condescension he knew was seeping into his demeanor and tried to turn the moment positive. She joined him in filtering through the mail..."What's this?" Arthur held out am 8x10 manila envelope addressed to her from none other than Mr. Eames.

Her eyebrows shot up and she took the folder from him. What she pulled out, was a thin little booklet with a post it on top that read. "To Tiny. Occupy that brain with thoughts other than how handsome I am, yeah? –E." She chuckled and rolled her eyes as she peeled the note off to get a better view of the booklet.

Arthur narrowed his eyes while he read (or tried to) the scribble of the man's handwriting. Shameless flirt. He heard the soft intake of her breath and turned to look at the content of the envelope. "What is it?"

"It's a maze activity book!" Her smile roamed the pages. "Eames said it might be helpful if I submerged my thoughts in something positive. Keep my mind from wandering and help control my thoughts."

He looked over her shoulder into the book. Page after were page were intricate mazes that would surely challenge even her sharp mind. He felt some bitterness, "I hardly think Eames is a certified psychologist."

"Well it could keep me from boring myself to death, if nothing else…" She chided back at his remark (not at all pleased with his pessimism), grabbed a pen out of his shirt pocket and took her booklet to the couch.

xxxxxx

"I've got a new job." Arthur pulled down the sheets on his side and climbed in next to her. He'd been downstairs in the kitchen on a conference call since after dinner. (Leftovers…) Ariadne was reading about Queen Victoria on her e-book.

She let a breath out and offered a tight lipped attempt at a smile, "Yeah?" The couple hadn't really spoken since she opened her mail from Eames. Arthur was touchy about the forger, it was reasonable she keep all she could about her encounters with him from Arthur. (If his reaction to the booklet had been any indication.)

"We start in the morning." Arthur smiled at her and fluffed his pillow.

The girl bookmarked her spot and closed her e-book, gently sitting it on her nightstand. "Arthur—"

The Point Man twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, "You said you would do the next one with me."

Ariadne sighed and picked at her nails to avoid the eyes she knew were losing their luster with disappointment, "If I was better…"

"You seem better."

She scoffed, "Because you're not home half the day."

Arthur took her chin and guided her to look at him, "Hey, I don't have to do this job. I can quit and stay home to help you."

She took his hand off her chin, "No, you need to work."

"I don't have to do anything…we don't need financial support. You are more important to me than dream sharing. If you need me here, that's where I'm going to be. Always. I'll just call Benedict and—"He picked up the phone on his nightstand.

"You need to work because…sometimes, you make it worse."

"Oh." He presses the end button and hooks the phone back in the charger.

Ariadne exhaled slowly and kept going, "You don't mean to, I know. And it's not your fault…it's just…aftermath." After his silence, she confessed, "I do miss it. The right side of my brain itches for it constantly. I pine after dream sharing and creation and a world where I can control my dreams again."

He turned his head, a boyish look in his eyes. The one you see in those little boys who want nothing more than to help but don't know how. Like James wanting nothing more than to put a band aid on Philippa in hopes it would make it all better. He almost whined like a younger boy too. A foolish little boy who thought that if you believed something to be true long and hard enough, it would be true. "You just need more practice. Maybe if you were in the dreams more, you could learn how to control them, you could get a grasp on handling them and making them go away…"

_And you wouldn't need Eames anymore. And you'd be mine again._

"It doesn't work like that Arthur." It was like they'd switched places. Switched brains. Ariadne had morphed into the one who stayed logical. No nonsense. This is the way it is. Arthur took the whimsical view. The hopeful, I'll try anything view. The 'anything is worth a shot' view because isn't that why they're together now? He took a shot? "Ask Cobb..."

"I miss you…" Arthur unloaded. He rested his forehead on her shoulder. He did miss her. He missed the fiery Parisian from the warehouse. The one who told off Cobb and had the courage to call Arthur a coward. The Ariadne who used to sneak special looks at him on jobs. The Ariadne he'd come home to, who threw her arms around him and kissed him dizzy and brushed his arm with her bunny slippers as she wrapped her legs around his waist. The Ariadne he'd proposed to, who cried and laughed and said I love you a million times just by looking him in the eyes. The one he knew. He felt her forehead rest on top of his head in turn.

"I miss you, too." She did miss him. Missed being able to tell him everything, without his feathers ruffling too easily. Missed being able to sleep in his arms a whole night without waking from nightmares about him. Missed going on jobs and adventures with him. Missed the relationship that was slowly crumbling.

Both were powerless to stop it. Both had monsters eating away at them in their heads. Both had parasites sucking on and warping their perception of each other.

Arthur raised his head to kiss her. It wasn't long before she reciprocated and their kisses went deeper. Her hands were groping at his face and neck to bring him closer. Missing the passion they'd had before this incident. Arthur rolled on top of her, breathing 'I love you's' all the way. She began running her hands through his hair, disheveling it. He ran his hands down her thighs and betwe

"Arthur, stop." She lightly pushed his chest.

He was panting heavily, "What's wrong?"

She started shaking her head, "I'm not ready for this." She had flashes of her telling him she was pregnant, of bringing home sonograms, of picking out cribs, of wallowing in blood, of depression and embarrassment and angst and-God, he needed to get off of her. "I can't do this again—I can't—" She sat up against the headboard.

Hastily and without comprehending what was going on, he returned to his spot and leant against the headboard as well…"Ok." She'd just…she'd never pushed him away before. Normally, she initiated it or encouraged him. Not that he was upset he wasn't getting any, he wasn't that type of man….And she had plainly said she wasn't ready. She'd been through a lot. That's understandable. He couldn't begin to fully imagine being the one to carry and then lose a—

"I'm sorry…I know it's been a while, but—"

"No, Ari, our relationship is more than physical. I'll wait as long as you need me to." He kissed the top of her head, turned his lamp off and settled into bed.

xxxxxx

"Honey, I'm home!" He mocked in a sing-song voice. She came downstairs in a nice outfit and his dimples couldn't keep themselves from caving. He set his briefcase on the counter and unlatched it. "The meeting was brief today, so I've had ample time to put this together." Ariadne approached warily, peeked over his shoulder. Inside was ginormous wrapped package. Silver stripes with a giant red bow. He set it before her with a flourish, "Open it."

Ariadne ripped the paper back in shreds to reveal two, nice, leather bound drawing pads, the covers red and embossed. One large and one average size. A box of graphite pencils, a box of colored pencils, a box of oil pastels and a set of inks. Another little box tied with a white bow held a set consisting of a ruler, a protractor and a compass. The Point Man watched in delight as her awestruck eyes took everything in. She was beaming, running her hands along the paper, opening the boxes and looking at the colors. "Arthur…" she breathed.

"Now, you don't have to miss it. Don't worry about using it up too fast either, I have another order waiting to be filled when you need it." He was ecstatic that she could barely tear her eyes off of her present to look at him. That she was too thrilled and speechless to thank him. That she stuttered when she brought herself to do so. It only made him more excited to present her with the next package. "I'm not done, yet." Her eyes were incredulous. "Open this one." He set another bulging package in front of her.

She pulled this one apart faster and rougher. And sitting there waiting for her was a thick book on M.C. Escher's Paradoxes. How to draw them, how to decipher them…Ariadne smiled at her fiancé and moved the book to look at the one under it. She gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth. She removed her hands to speak but then covered her mouth back up. She tried again, "How did—"

"I saw the tab open on your computer a couple nights ago."

The girl practically caressed the cover of the book, "Where did you even get it? It doesn't come out for a couple months!" She ran her thumb along the title: Les Dix-sept Merveilles de L'architecture or The Seventeen Wonders of Architecture. A book put together by three of France's infamous Architects comprised of the seventeen most magnificent structures to date for different countries. It included blueprints, pictures, how the structures came to be and more. She'd been eagerly awaiting its release for months and it wasn't scheduled to be released for another two or three.

"I may have pulled some strings for you," He watched as she gently pulled back the cover.

"Oh my God! You got it signed too?" He simply winked at her. She read the script: "Ariadne, ne cessez jamais de croquis. Ours est l'art des anges. –Christian de Portzamparc."

The other,"Pour ma college artiste, le dessin est de rever les yeux ouverts. Bonne chance a vous, -Edouard Francois."

The last, "Mademoiselle Ariadne, Vous etes travail est magnifique. Aspirent a de grandes choses. Vous pouves etre un iour dans un livre comme celui-ci. Sincerement, Jean Nouvel."

Ariadne tackled him.

"You like it?" He laughed.

"Is that even a question?" She placed a sloppy wet kiss on his mouth, "Why on earth are you so good to me?"

He kissed her, over the moon that she was so pleased, "Is that even a question?"

xxxxxx

They were going to go out to dinner. Ariadne was supposed to be freshening up. She was distraught when she came down the stairs. Frazzled, panicking and an evident need to GET OUT of there. She slung her bag over her shoulder and shrugged her coat on, "I'm so sorry, Arthur, I completely forgot. It's Clarisse's birthday today and I'm supposed to meet the girls for dinner in ten minutes and I haven't even gotten her a freakin present." She looked at her watch and grabbed her keys.

"Oh, ok," She was already halfway out the door when he called, "I might go out…anyways..." He looked to the counter and saw that she'd left her cell phone. He knew by the time he trudged out to catch her she'd be speeding off anyway so he left it. He called his new team and was informed they were all meeting for drinks, if he'd like to come get acquainted and lounge he was invited to do so. Ariadne had her night with the girls, he might as well have a night with the guys. Since she'd left her phone, he'd called Clarisse.

"Salut?"

"Clari, C'est Arthur."

"Oh! Bonsoir." She quickly changed to English so they could communicate easier, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, is Ari there?"

"Mmm, not at the moment, no."

"Well when she gets there, will you tell her I've gone for drinks with the guys from my firm? And not to worry or wait up if she gets back before me?" He decided to add in the reason for this favor, "She left her cell at home."

"Oui, I suppose."

"Merci." And with his gentlemanly manners he bid her farewell only after he'd wished her, "Joyeux Anniversaire, Clarisse."

The French woman on the line faltered for a second, obviously confused, "Merci, but It is not my birthday."

"Well is it Edith or Annie's? Ari said she was meeting up with the girls for a birthday dinner."

Clarisse chuckled, "Not one I was invited to, then. Or Annie…she's with me. Little Ethan's anniversaire is in a few days and I'm helping her plan. Maybe, Ari was just confused?"

"Oui…nevermind then. Thank you anyways, Clari. Prende soin."

xxxxxx

Her phone was in his hands. He was staring at it and tapping his foot on the ground, trying to think of a new combination of numbers she might use for her password. He'd tried her birthday, her parents anniversary, their anniversary, the day he proposed, the day she graduated, the day she moved to Paris.

Ah. The day we met. The day she met Cobb.

Shit. The date we executed Inception?

Spectacular.

He looked into her calendar. Nothing was scheduled for months…but then again, he should've known that. She wasn't one for planning ahead, Arthur was the one that did that. He was the one that bought and hung the calendar in the kitchen and the one that penciled in all the important dates/appointments/bill due dates and etc. She barely touched the thing; Arthur didn't even think she looked at it except to see which picture was revealed at the beginning of each month. He bought her a planner back when they first started dating. He found them helpful and thus thought she might appreciate one for school as well. Ariadne doodled in it. Bridges, towers, skyscrapers, underwater cities and empires on the moon. He saw his name in various types of letters (cursive, bubble) on a few pages throughout when he'd curiously flipped through it once. It made it worth it. June 9th would forever be "Arthur" in 3-D and the month of December was Sand Castles in the deserts of Egypt.

He could've checked alerts but…if she wouldn't write in the calendar that was a lost cause as well. Nothing in notes except an old grocery list for the market and an old, unrevised guest list for their wedding. He snickered that the first line in that note read "Not my Aunt Marion. And Lilly (her snobby cousin, who lived in Florida and rubbed her superiority in Ariadne's face her whole life) can suck it."

Texts. There were a few from Edith asking questions about what brand of canvas was the cheapest and begging her for the recipe to Grandma Bourgeois' Agneau au Four. Ariadne had asked Annie for present ideas for Ethan and the woman replied four texts worth of a list. Earlier in the afternoon she had texted Ari back and forth, joking about the mailman. (Annie was a 'between man' for a few major clothing companies in France and a couple boutiques in Paris. She would order in products in bulk from other countries and send them from her house to her mother companies. Therefore the mail man came to her door nearly every day with packages. Apparently he has an undying and unrequited love for Annie and she'll text the Architect the funny little things he does for her, even though she's married with a kid.) Clarisse hadn't texted Ari in a month, she preferred to call and hear a voice instead. Arthur scrolled back up. Miles had texted in his inexperienced, short way and asked how she was doing, said he missed her and hoped she was taking good care of herself. Ariadne responded sweetly. Then at the very top was a message she had forgotten to delete.

"Gout de la Liberte. 7pm or nothing, Tiny. –E "

"Coming as fast as I can get out of here. Thanks. -Ari"

xxxxxx

Arthur has a death grip on the wheel while he speeds through the roadways and searches for this Taste of Freedom place…poor fucking choice of words. He came up on a strip of shoppes and found it on the right. The Point Man skillfully parked their car in an inconspicuous place and walked to the desired location. Gout de la Liberte had windows lining the storefront; it was easy for him to see inside and pinpoint her table. Back left corner of the restaurant. She was sitting with Eames. Both had wine, they were smiling, having a good time…It looked like a dinner between two friends because Arthur was sure that's what it was.

Then the forger put his hand on Ariadne's. Arthur could see him mouth the word 'love.'

Arthur didn't even know how he got back to their flat.

xxxxxx

Translation 1- Ariadne, never stop sketching. Ours is the art of angels. –Christian de Portzamparc.

Trans 2-To my fellow artist, drawing is dreaming with our eyes open. Good luck to you. –Edouard Francois.

Trans 3- Miss Ariadne, You're work is magnificent. Aspire for great things. You may one day be in a book such as this. Sincerely, Jean Nouvel.

Trans 4- "Prende soin." = Take care.

Trans 5- Gout de la Liberte= Taste of Freedom (a restaurant)


	14. The Emotion

Big thank you to _cinematherapy, E.A.L Runaway _and _Nina.4444_

**Chapter 14: The Emotion**

"It's just hard not being able to talk to him…" Ariadne sipped her wine. It'd been a rough flashback…she hadn't even made it to the restaurant before it came full throttle. Eames had to coax her through it in the alleyway between the shops. The worst thing about her flashbacks is that she knew she had them and she knew when they would come and she knew deep down while they were happening that they weren't real but when her own eyes and mind deceived her like that, it got the better of her. It'd become like watching it happen in person over and over again. James calling her and the blood spattering from his stomach as he collapsed. The screaming, the bullets…the glimpse of Philippa's head surrounded in blood as Arthur pulled her from the door. The man she loved shooting their best friend between the eyes over and over and over and over. Eames had suggested they get dinner and let her relax...wait until her jitters were gone before she returned home and here is where they found themselves.

"I don't see what's stopping you. I mean, I know you can't help the role he takes on in your hallucinations of The Incident but you should be more open to him then you're allowing." The forger picked apart a piece of bread and slid it across the pat of butter in the middle of the table… Eames didn't have the manners of Arthur.

"He just makes me feel so guilty. You should've seen his face last night when I told him I needed him to keep working because I needed to be away from him…It was like I stabbed him in the gut. It was horrible." She rubbed her face with her palm and then rested her chin on it.

Eames snorted after a bite of his wedge, "Because it should've been the epitome of happiness after that sweet statement?"

This earned a laugh from her. The forger then rested his hand on hers for comfort, "It'll get better, Love."

She nodded and decided she was hungry enough to start on her soup, now. He elaborated mockingly, "You and Arthur were meant to have a cheesy, fairy tale, Lifetime Movie ending. That's why I badgered him until he realized it too." Eames winked and Ariadne downed a spoonful of Tomato Bisque.

xxxxxx

"_You did what, now?" Eames' choked on his water at the same time Cobb asked, "I thought you were going to get your watch fixed.."_

"_It was an impulse buy." Arthur defended, a bit shameful and embarrassed, "It was just sitting there…it was so exquisite and…and so Ariadne. I wasn't thinking. I just imagined myself on one knee like it was really happening and…"_

_Cobb deadpanned, "You walked out with a broken watch and an engagement ring." _

"_You don't even move in together for another two months!" Eames added._

"_I know. I know it's too fast. And I know you don't approve, Cobb…but you know how I feel. You've been there…"Arthur smiled like they were remembering a tropical vacation spot. _

"_Yes, it's a wonderful place to be…if you were two normal people with normal jobs and normal lives." Cobb took another sip of water as his mouth went dry._

"_I can't help it. I love her so much I can't see straight and I just… I wanted to buy her something special."_

"_Buy her a puppy dog for heaven sakes." Eames quipped._

_Cobb added, "Or a pashmina."_

_Arthur continued, frantically, "I mean, we've been planning and preparing to move in together for nearly seven months. It's only natural that by the time it actually happened, we'd be even closer."_

"_Arthur…" Cobb advised, "Just wait until she moves in. You don't want to get too far ahead of yourself and scare her off. She's young."_

xxxxxx

"Arthur, come to bed."

He heard her voice materialize behind him but wouldn't turn. He stayed with his hand clasped around his water glass on the counter and stared at the fridge, "I will in a minute."

"You said that four hours ago and you're standing in the same spot."

He wouldn't turn to look at her. _He wouldn't turn to look at her._ Why should he? She didn't deserve for him to look at her. She didn't deserve for him to patient, for him to keep giving and giving. "I can't sleep." It was true, her presence just burned the images into his mind further. The grimy, bulky hand placing itself on her silky, petite one. That special four letter word he'd reserved for himself.

"Then just come lay down with me." He felt her arms around his waist and stiffened. It was exasperating, the hold she still had on him. She could hold him there without chains. Those arms, her arms…draped across his midriff. So tiny, so delicate. They alone made him want to give in, let her lead him back to their bedroom, let them curl around him no matter how traitorous they'd become. Arthur would go down in flame trying to keep from granting her that.

"No."

Her head was rested against his back now, "You want me to make you some coffee or something?"

Exercising willpower was become a chore. "No."

Her hands began brushing against his suit, her voice lowered, "Don't shut me out like this."

Oh hell no. Ariadne wasn't allowed to pull that on him. Not after everything she put him through. Not after locking him out and building up walls. Not after kicking him out of their room, after refusing to speak at him, refusing to look at him. Not after the lies she'd told him and the ways she'd sliced him to mincemeat in the matter of one night. "Like you shut _me_ out?" He bit.

Relief. She had removed herself from him and the agony momentarily subsided. He could breathe again. He could repair the slight chinks in his armor and be ready for her next attack. Then she was standing at his side, focused on him, "Arthur, what's wrong?"

He wouldn't look at her. _He wouldn't look at her. _He gulped, "Nothing. You wouldn't understand." Mhm. How does it feel to get that answer? To be brushed off? To be told you wouldn't understand and ending it like that?

"Are you mad at me for staying out too late?" Her voice was jilted. It sounded so innocent, so young, so _worried._ It jammed its way into his barriers and though she had hurt him to the core, he couldn't do the same. He still loved her too much.

He gave way and met her eyes, "It's nothing. I'm just overthinking things. Go back to bed, Ariadne, you need your sleep." He wanted to spite her but his voice would be nothing but gentle with her.

"I can't sleep without you." She whispered. The look in her eyes captured him, her unbuttoning his suit jacket reeled him in. "At least just come sit on the couch with me."

He was powerless to the effect she had on him. Like a zombie under her control, he robotically nodded his head and walked to plop onto the couch. He was numb. He stared straight ahead at the unblinking tv as she nestled into him. She laid her head on his chest and he could only picture her doing the same to the Forger. She wrapped her arms around him and all he could see was her throwing them around Eames. It was only when she muttered her next four words that his memory remembered everything they shared and everything they'd been to each other. They reminded him that they were engaged, they were in love. "I love you, Arthur."

Why would his Ariadne cheat on him? That's not who she was. She knew he wouldn't stand in the way of what made her happy, no matter the consequences for him, so why keep it a secret? If she wanted to leave Arthur, Ariadne would leave Arthur. Ariadne wouldn't say anything she didn't mean. It took her a year to tell him she loved him the first time, it was a special phrase to her, she wouldn't throw it around without meaning it. And Arthur didn't know the whole story. He and Ariadne had been growing apart, he'd been spending a great deal of time at work. Trying to give her space, trying to get his mind elsewhere. That could be the very reason she was confiding in Eames, right? Problems with Arthur: Arthur is mad at me. Arthur is never home. I don't think Arthur loves me anymore. Arthur hates me because of the incident. He was overanalyzing the vaguest of details, he was feeling this way for nothing. Arthur resolved to fix their relationship and that is what he would do.

xxxxxx

"_Arthur, are you shitting me? Stop changing your bloody mind. The team is taking tomorrow off, you've already ordered everything…it's four am. Just do it, lad. That ring is burning a hole in your pocket."_

"_What if she says no? What if she wants to break it off? What if she decides she doesn't want to share a flat anymore?"_

_Eames rolled his eyes and wished the Point Man could see them, "Why would she? You two seem disgustingly twitter pated with each other, I'm sure it's not one sided."_

"_She's young."_

"_She's not but, what, five maybe six years younger than you?"_

"_I know but what if she isn't ready to settle? What if she wants to be independent and free to be with whoever she feels like? I feel like this is an ultimatum, like I'm trying to tie her down. She'll never agree, Eames. She doesn't want to marry me. She couldn't want—"_

"_Arthur, shut up. You're proposing tomorrow. You're welcome and _goodnight_."_

xxxxxx

The next morning she woke with Arthur's jacket laid on top of her and a pillow under her head. She followed the waft of mouth-watering scents to the kitchen. There were two elaborate plate sets on the island and a vase of sunflowers with a bow. Bacon, omelets, French toast, hash browns and sausage links adorned the plates in the most precise servings. A bowl of fruit sat to the side for each of them. When she succeeded in tearing her gaze from the meal in front of her, she saw Arthur in his suit pants and under shirt standing at the stove. The pan was sizzling and crackling. She walked over to his side and saw a growing stack of pancakes (her favorite). He looked at her the instant she was behind him, almost as if his spidey senses could smell her coming. He beamed, "Good morning, beautiful." He placed a peck on her lips and returned to flipping her pancakes.

She was stunned. She glanced at the clock to read that it was ten thirty. "Arthur, aren't you going to work?"

"Yes, late." He flipped the pancakes in the pan, "I called and told them that I wanted to cook breakfast for my fiancée and that their research could wait."

She put her hand on his forehead playfully, "Are you feeling, ok?"

"I also thought I would come home early tomorrow and take you to our favorite place for dinner," He noticed her furrow her eyebrows, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she relaxed them, "But...it's not a holiday, it's not my birthday, it's not our anniversary…" she smiled, baffled, and shrugged her shoulders.

Arthur added the pancakes he was concentrating on to the pile on the plate, turned off the stove and turned to her, "I've been at work too much. I was trying to give you space, but…we've grown apart. I want you to fall back in love with me and for that to happen I need to make you feel special again."

"You always make me feel special. And I don't have to fall back in love with you…" she poked his side, "Because I never fell out of it, silly."

Arthur beamed and exited the room for a brief moment. A second later, he was back with an extravagantly wrapped box that he gently laid on the floor. "Open it."

She eyed him questioningly, knelt down and untied the huge yellow ribbon. The box top sprung open on its own accord and a big eyed, Jack Russell Terrier stood on its feet to greet her. He was dressed in a knitted green doggy sweater with spikes on his back that made him look like a dinosaur. To top it all off, he had a matching green collar and a bone hanging off proudly displaying the name "T-Rex."

Ariadne squealed and held the puppy close as it licked her face, "He's so soft, Arthur, he's perfect!"

From behind his back he showed off the adoption papers, "And he's from the pound just like you asked." He smiled and bragged, "I had him vaccinated and groomed."

She let the puppy jump around on the ground and leapt up to squeeze Arthur, "! But we're not allowed to—"

"Don't worry about Mr. and Mrs. Dubois; anything is allowed for a generous donation."

He was rewarded with several kisses on his cheek, "You, Mr. Nolan, are perfect." Ariadne picked up the puppy to cuddle again.

"Anything for you."

Arthur placed two extra slices of bacon on the ground for the puppy and then pulled out the breakfast chair for the Architect. "When I get home from work we'll take him to the pet store and you can pick out everything you want him to have."

Later that day, when Arthur got home, Ariadne and the puppy were waiting by the door. She was holding him, in his little green sweater. When he saw Arthur, his tail went all sorts of crazy and he barked (more like yipped) to get down. Arthur bent down to the doggy's level and Ariadne held him up to lap and lick Arthur's chin. She giggled, "Aww…he loves his daddy."

Arthur grinned at the phrase. He kissed her nose and they were off to the pet store. Their buggy had an elaborate plush bed, several doggy sweaters and bandanas (Ariadne argued that naturally, he would need scarves like her because pets always resemble their owners. Or was it the other way around?), A food and drink bowl, every dinosaur or bone toy she could find (she was really taking the T-Rex theme too far), dry food to last them months, milk bone treats, a leash, doggy pads, a carrier…then she discovered the cat castles. And even though they were for cats to jump around on she was convinced Rex would love one too. He barked when he saw them and licked her when she asked him…Ariadne believed she was some sort of dog whisperer and could understand him and so now she _had _to get him one because "Rex is begging, Arthur." And though Arthur wasn't phased by the actual puppy's puppy dog eyes, he was influenced by Ariadne's. Here he was piling a cat castle into the buggy and wheeling it to the register. He gave the cashier the "I know it's for a cat and I'm getting it anyways look" as he paid.

With so much stuff they had to call a cab to get home. Once in the back, Ari carefully and sweetly kissed Rex on his head and placed him in his carrier.

"Are you happy, Ari?"

"Yes! And so is little Rex! I can't wait to set his stuff up! Oh! And see him play on his castle…"

"No, I mean…at home. With me…Are you happy?"

"Of course." Ariadne pulled his tie and gave him a long, generous, thank you kiss.


	15. The Response

Big thank you to _cinematherapy!_

**Chapter 15: The Response**

"_Cream soda?"_

"_I wanted to try it!" Ariadne stuck her straw in and sipped it up._

_Arthur stuck his straw in despite her protests and tried some. He hummed with pleasure and then tried to switch their glasses. Ariadne nudged him and grabbed it from him, "Oh no you don't. You steal my soda and this relationship is over."_

"_Are you threatening me?" Arthur leaned in._

"_Ugh," The Forger slid in to the other side, "Yusuf better get here soon. I'm not in the vomiting mood. Could you two sit at least two inches away from each other?"_

_They smiled at the forger and Ariadne scooted a little away from her boyfriend. Yusuf had called and said he was running late and to order without him. So the food had come before long. The Forger got a heaping hamburger, Ariadne got her usual Panini sandwich and Arthur got his usual chili cheese fries and salad. After Ariadne had eaten the first half of her sandwich, she took the other half and held it in front of Arthur's face so he could take a bite. "That is the best sandwich on this earth."_

"_If you love it so much, I don't see why you don't get_ it_ every time we come." The Architect brought it back to her mouth and took another bite. _

_Arthur smiled while Ariadne took her thumb and wiped some cheese off his chin, "Because I always take a bite of yours…" She rolled her eyes at him and he added, "And then you wouldn't kiss me so you could steal some of my fries."_

_She wiggled her eyebrows at him and pressed her lips to his, reaching across and grabbing a section of fries and putting it on her plate while he was distracted. Eames brooded, "Oh God…What are you, fifteen? Arthur, I can't believe you're allowing this type of unprofessional behavior." _

"_We're not working, Mr. Eames. You're visiting us…I don't have to act professional."_

_The Architect made a face at him, "Face it, Eames. This is what you wanted or you wouldn't have teased us about each other so much…"Arthur shrugged at Eames to agree with Ariadne and tease him at the same time. Just for show, Ariadne leaned over and repeated the kiss and fry theft. _

"_Shit, guys, are you serious? This isn't high school."_

_They quickly pulled away and put some distance between them, Ariadne was laughing and Arthur blushing. "Sorry Yusuf."_

xxxxxx

The waitress dropped off their drinks at the table and Arthur gave her a polite nod and charismatic smirk. Eames, who'd already, looked her up and down upon arrival and was bored with her just saluted and Ariadne thanked her sweetly. They'd ordered quickly. The Forger and his heaping hamburger, The Point Man and his fries and salad combo. The Architect deviated however: Wanted to try the burger with the chili cheese fries on the side. Arthur had mentioned, "But you always get the Panini. We're at Gusto's." Ariadne shrugged halfheartedly and said something about wanting to try something different for a change. Something different indeed; he highly doubted she would steal his fries since she'd ordered some of her own this time. He tried not to waver at the tradition broken. Everyone needed variety at times; it was just food.

"Arthur, can't say I wasn't blown off my tail when you suggested we meet for lunch. Always knew you had a soft spot for me." He picked, while handing their unneeded menus to the waitress.

"Our relationship _is_ one of love/hate Mr. Eames. Hate being the more operative word."

Eames took the opportune moment to blow the wrapper of his straw across the table into Ariadne's face and while laughing, she balled hers up and returned the favor. Arthur's face stayed straight and poised. "Don't deny it. We're bestest buddies and you know it." The forger winked at him and then shared an amused glance with Ariadne.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Regretfully so."

"Boys." The Architect reprimanded. She turned her head sharply after hearing her name called across the diner-like restaurant. She waved and murmured for Arthur to let her out so she could say hello and catch up with a few of her friends whom she'd not seen since graduation.

The waitress dropped off extra napkins and Ariadne's fries, shamelessly making eyes at the men. The lighthearted mood quickly died when Arthur's expression turned dark and his eyes turned vicious, "Are you screwing her?"

Eames' attention was peaked. Arthur didn't normally use derogatory language. He always thought it was beneath him or something and Eames had already stated this waitress wasn't his type. (After retrieving her number, mind you.) "What?"

Arthur lowered his chin menacingly, made Eames uncomfortable, "Are you screwing Ariadne?"

Eames blinked, "Did you fall off your rocker? Why would you ask such a thing?"

"I don't know. You two just act like love struck teenagers, it seems." The forger raised his eyebrows and tried to process the accusation. Arthur added, "She _is_ irresistible; it's easy to fall for her. Even _I_ gave in."

Eames shook his head; he couldn't believe a word he was hearing. "You're speaking a bunch of crock. That is the most disgusting thing I've ever-"

"I could forgive you, you know." Arthur's eyes held a maniacal glint and an overwhelming threat, "That is, if you fess up now and promise to stop." His voice became a voice that wasn't Arthur's. It was gruff and murderous. Possessive.

It was too much for Eames to take. Suddenly he was livid with this picture Arthur was painting of him, with the idea that Eames would be that low and conniving and that Ariadne would be anything less than eternally faithful to Arthur. "No."

"I-"

"No. No. No. No. _NO_. Arthur, I would _never_ do that to you. _Ariadne_ would never do that to you. What are you thinking?"

The Point Man heard her laugh from across the diner and crumpled the napkin lying under his hand, "I'm thinking you're screwing my fiancée." Arthur gritted exasperatedly and threw the balled up napkin in Eames' face, "She was mine first, Eames."

"Where the hell is this coming from?"

There was no time for Arthur to answer before Ariadne appeared at his side. After he let her in and sat back down himself, he leaned over and bestowed a slow, exaggerated kiss on her cheek. The Point Man leaned back, eyeing Eames challengingly. Ariadne caught the way Arthur was glaring at the forger, saw the dumbfounded gape of Eames in return and felt the tension clouding the air. She looked back and forth between the men, "Did I miss something?"

"Nah," Eames recovered and grinned at her. Then he shifted his grin to Arthur and enunciated the words, "There is _nothing going on_."

xxxxxx

Saturday morning, Arthur was up at the crack of dawn. It was the day of the weekend that they normally went out and did busybody things with each other since Sundays they were lazy bums. They normally slept in too, though. After lunch with Eames on Thursday, Ariadne and Arthur had stopped in a couple stores before going home and she'd found an outfit she was completely in love with. (Which is hard to come by for Ariadne; she normally doesn't get too excited about things of that nature.) Arthur figured she'd wear it today and thus picked out a grey suit to match. Around ten thirty, he picked up some blueberry scones and headed home, expecting Ariadne to be up by now.

Dressed and drinking coffee, she was sitting at the island and sketching when he came in. "Perfect, you're ready." He kissed her hair and set down the box of baked yummies. The Architect's eyes widened and pleasured 'Mmm' escaped her when the scones tore her attention from her morning doodles.

"Where did you go this morning?" She asked before taking a bite of the hot pastry.

"Ah, I called Marni Fabantou's office but they don't take calls until ten and I knew that she'd be swarmed the minute the clock ticked. So I pulled some strings, found out there is someone in the office before hours and wiggled my way in there. Turns out someone cancelled today and we're meeting her for lunch at 11:30."

Ariadne closed her sketchbook and put the last corner of the scone into her mouth, "Who is this, again?"

"Marni Fabantou. We looked her up a while back; She's that wedding planner," He opened the box and pulled a scone out himself, "I talked to her a little bit about us, so she's already got some ideas to spit to you and she's got some locations she wants us to take a look at. We wanted an August wedding and that only leaves us a few months now."

An unsettled feeling nestled itself into Ariadne's chest. She'd hoped they would just do the normal: eat, walk in park, eat again. "You made the appointment without asking? I think we should've talked about this first."

"Let's talk." He poured himself some coffee from the pot and sat beside her.

"Don't you think August is…too soon?"

"No, I think August seems forever away." Arthur rested his hand on hers; his dimples would be the death of her.

"I just don't think we'll be ready by then."

Arthur's eyebrows raised and his cocky smirk appeared, "Organizing, is my forte…and Marni Fabantou is the best there is. She's assured me that she can do it."

The Architect could barely get a word in edgewise, "Ok, but—"

"Ari, if you don't want a fireworks and roses wedding…just say so. We could just go to the court house and have a Justice of the Peace consummate it. I could care less as I long as I'm with you," He kissed her tenderly but perkily and kept his face close to hers. She didn't seem as into the talk of marriage as he was. She smiled in a way that felt she was only trying to please him but as he searched her eyes for clue to her thoughts he hid his concern seamlessly.

Cautiously she began to speak her mind, "It's not about the wedding-which I want an actual wedding by the way- I know you and Marni can help me plan a beautiful one in a sufficient amount of time…I know we'll be _prepared_ to _have a wedding_ but I don't think we'll _be ready to get married_."

He leaned back to his previous upright position, "I've been ready to marry you since I proposed. It's why I proposed and I assumed it's why you agreed."

"It wa—it is. But that was kind of a long time ago. We've been through a crap load of stuff lately. I feel like we're slightly different people…" Her voice simmered down to a timid murmur, "I feel like our relationship isn't that strong anymore." She expected him to take his hand off of hers when she said that, so it was no surprise when he did. Ariadne knew it wasn't what he wanted to hear but it was the truth. She defended herself, "I mean—we're trying. We're making progress but I don't think we're at a stable enough state to get married."

"Marriage certificate or not, we're always going to have to work to keep our relationship strong."

She sighed, already regretting the place she'd taken this conversation, "I know."

"Then what is the deal? You're not ready to be that deeply committed to me? You want to play the field and if you can't find someone better _then _you'll settle down with me?" He stood and took off his suit jacket, threw it to the couch.

She tilted her head and looked at him in that way that said he knew better, "No, you know better than that. _You're _the one for me."

"Then where is this coming from?," he pushed the box of scones out of the way so he could rest his arm on the table and lean in to analyze her, "Why don't you want to get married anymore?"

"It's not like I want to cancel the wedding indefinitely…I just think we should wait. You know, maybe next August." She shrugged.

"Next August?" He deadpanned, "And what happens when next August you decide you want to wait until maybe the next August? And then maybe the next August? And then maybe the next? Just like you keep saying, 'Maybe I'll do the next job?' What if you decide that_ maybe _you want to string me along for the rest of our lives?" He took his cup of coffee and tossed it in the sink.

She stood as well and followed him into the living area, "I'm not."

"I want to be able to call you my wife, Ariadne, not just my roommate. Ok? I'm past all of that. I want something more. You are my everything…this isn't about marriage certificates and groomsmen and cakes and guest lists; this is about wanting to be yours and _you wanting to be mine_. I want to be with you for the rest of my life and I want you to have my name for it."

An awkward silence filled the room as Ariadne looked down at her feet and contemplated what he said. What difference would being married make? She knew they loved each other, she knew they'd both work through whatever they needed to for each other and she knew she couldn't be with anyone else but the Point Man and still expect to be happy. Her heart sunk when she looked back up at him and saw his eyes shining with the first signs of water. Since when had she become so bad at communicating with him? Since when did she start hurting him on a daily basis? Her face softened and she kissed his cheek, "Forget I said anything. Let's just go." She picked up his suit jacket and held it out for him to slip his arms through.

"Don't force yourself to do this to please me." He took it and laid it on the back of the chair, ready to dismiss the idea of going.

Ariadne shook her head, "I'm not," and then went to pick up her messenger bag.

Arthur caught the bag and gently set it back down on the floor. "I know you are." How could he not know after the way she looked at him? Sympathy written all over her face. Pity for the pathetic man who would crumble to his broken-hearted knees for her. It sickened him and he wouldn't sit through the remainder of the day feeling that way. He wouldn't let her try to appease him like that.

This frustrated her. Him and his stubbornness. His way or the highway. "I'll go." She enunciated and slung her bag back over her shoulder.

"This isn't how I wanted it to happen. You were more excited about that book I got you…I don't want you halfheartedly picking out crap with a bored look on your face. I'm not going to sit there and watch you put on airs for that woman, knowing you wish you weren't there planning our wedding."

Her mouth gaped and her eyebrows scrunched, "You're being ridiculous!"

Arthur walked away and began heading up the stairs to their bedroom. In his mind, his only coherent thoughts were: She doesn't want to be my fiancée anymore. Ariadne isn't in love with me like she was. Our relationship is crumbling. She pursued him, livid, "Arthur!"

"Don't worry." He bout faced, "I'll cancel our appointment and we don't have to talk about marrying each other anymore." He used his Point Man voice with her.

She caught his shoulder. Her frustrated, angered fierceness turned into hurt and disbelief. Her shout turned to a squeak, "You're being really mean about this…You know I want to marry you. You know I love you."

His steeliness was gone too, now. "Actually, I don't, Ariadne."

"Arthur!" She reprimanded like he was a child who'd cussed but he ignored her. He entered their room, closed the door before she could follow and dialed up Marni Fabantou. She must've been so confused when the bright-eyed, beaming,' joy to the world' man from this morning called stoically to cancel.

xxxxxx

The call had ended and he let the phone fall wherever when he heard a car start up. He looked out the window of their bathroom and low and behold, their car was pulling out of the building's back parking lot. He snatched his keys and sped to his own car. He followed closely behind, it was about a twenty minute drive. Suddenly they were out of the city of Paris and into a large residential province, passing house after house after house. When she pulled over by the curb of a quaint, two-story, blue and white town house, Arthur pulled over on the opposite side of the street about a block and a half back.

He narrowed his eyes and waited for movement of any kind, waited for his suspicions from the past couple months to be confirmed. Then the townhouse door opened and out stepped a brawny blonde. Piercing green eyes and full lips. Khaki pant suit and tacky pink shirt. Eames.

Once he was visible on the front porch, Ariadne's car door flew open and closed and she practically ran up the sidewalk. She almost tripped while climbing the few steps to his house before throwing herself into his arms. Arthur watched the scene unfold, his grip tightening by the millisecond. Eames smoothed her hair and rubbed circles on her back as she clung to him for dear life. Arthur glared daggers. Almost as if sensing that they were being watched, Eames head shot up to look no direction in particular. Warily, he pressed his lips to her ear and whispered something. She looked over her shoulder, too.

The sight of her face only the twisted the knife Arthur felt in his back and made it seem more real. Her face was scrunched and stained with tears, some still falling incessantly as her eyes darted around the neighborhood. Eames pressed his hand on the small of her back and shooed her inside; His eyes swept up and down his street once more before closing the door.

Arthur dropped his die weakly before he could even roll it. He heard nothing of the world except his own yells and saw nothing in front of him but a storm of tears.


	16. The Potency

Big thank you to _cinematherapy! _Ever faithful :) Even if your my only reader, I appreciate you!

**Chapter 16: The Potency**

He couldn't bring himself to move. He saw one single image replay over and over in front of his eyes once they drained every ounce of water in him: Ariadne getting out of her car and rushing to Eames' door. Ariadne crying hysterically and throwing herself into his arms when he answered. Eames' hand on the small of her back as he guided her inside. His fiancée was cheating on him. Ariadne was in love with someone else. Arthur had no memory of driving back to their flat. He vaguely remembered being visited by Claude (the extractor from his last completed job.) The man had come by to drop off Arthur's check in person and realized he was drunk off his feet. Arthur saw flashes of his former coworker dragging him to the bathtub to sober him up. Most of it was out of his system now, it was all out of the house…but the pain had paralyzed him. He couldn't talk to her, he couldn't look at her. He didn't know what would happen when she came home. He could only comprehend: Ariadne and Eames. Eames and Ariadne. Ariadne and Eames.

xxxxxx

_The door to the warehouse creaked and Arthur's heart stopped. She was earlier than expected. He hadn't had time to go over his carefully thought out speech another time. He hid the notecards under his laptop, fiddled with files on his desk to hide the fact he was straightening his suit and then casually strode to her. "Someone's here early."_

"_I could say the same about you…" She called across the warehouse as she was shrugging her favorite red coat off._

_He smoothed his hair while she was preoccupied and by the time she turned, he stood in front of her to greet her. "I'm always here this early."_

"_Touché."_

"_Miss me?" He hid his nervous energy well while he watched as she readjusted her scarf casually. _

"_Yes. It's been…what? A whole nine hours?" She kissed him sweetly after she teased. They allowed themselves to be couple-like when the rest of the team wasn't there. Before they began their work, on breaks, or after was time they felt it acceptable to sneak a few displays of affection. She seemed unsuspecting enough but her smile alone set his heart at an irregular pace just thinking of the moment to come. Hopefully, he'd see that smile again after he'd popped the big question._

"_Well starting this weekend I won't have to go any hours without seeing you." He smiled and hugged her waist, "Looking forward to sharing living space with me?"_

"_I guess..." She sighed melodramatically. "I'm enjoying my last week of freedom though." _

_A pang of worriment entered his stomach. Doubt, fear, apprehension…all coursed through him. She wanted freedom. She didn't want to be tied down to him and only him. She was going to say no. She was going to say no. He'd have to be uber convincing; there was no turning back now… eventually she'd find that piece of jewelry. "Oh?" Was it getting hot in there? His tie felt a little tighter._

"_Yeah," Ariadne shrugged her shoulders, "You know. Clubbing, meeting men at bars, relations with Eames…" He started to harden his face and clench his fists when he caught her smirk and the glimmer in her eyes. She was such a little—_

_Her arms wrapped around his neck and she adorably had to go on her tiptoes to hug him and nuzzle her face in his neck, kissing it once, "I'm joking!" She kissed his jaw, " I can't wait, Arthur. I've been counting down the minutes."_

_This eased his nerves. Gave him a little optimism, a little more confidence. He kissed her cheek and released her from his embrace, "Me too. Now, off to work with you." He gave her a love pat to send her off._

_She mocked him sprightly and saluted the Point Man, "Yes sir." _

_He held his breath, he was all too aware of it too. He felt that the slightest movement of air through his lungs might ruin this moment. Might somehow change her mind. _

_Ariadne had not remembered putting a huge white sheet over her models last night…then again she was more than exhausted, who knows what she might have done. She dumped her sling bag on the floor by the leg of the table and pulled her hair to the side, rolled up her sleeves. She went to look at her watch and realized she'd forgotten to put it on this morning. The girl retrieved her bag again to check her phone for the time and pulled her watch out._

_She couldn't put that watch on any slower. The suspense was killing Arthur. She needed to look under the damn sheet. Every second that passed was a ton of anxiety weighing into his being. He swallowed like it would get rid of the stress. His palms were getting clammy. He had to loosen his tie; it was constricting his airways._

_Finally, prep time was over and she threw her bag back down on the floor. Carefully, so as not to damage her models, she pulled the white sheet off of the table. Initially, all she felt was confusion. Her desk was so…organized. Arthur had been there. Her models were lined across the back of the desk and sprinkled with rose petals that she hadn't recalled putting there. A model she hadn't seen in forever, The Fischer Hotel, was placed in the middle. A red thumbtack pinpointed where their first kiss had been and a single full rose lay in front of it. Her notepad was closed and placed on the side, with #2 pencils neatly sharpened and lined across on top of it. On the end of the lineup of pencils was a colored one. Red. White ribbon tied in an immaculate bow around it and in the middle of the bow…a ring. Thin, princess cut, a beautiful dark blue stone was set in middle, and small diamonds on either side tapered to the back. She held her breath, picked up the pencil and slid it off…on closer look, the inner part of the ring was engraved. Tiny words read, "Il n'ya rien comme vous et moi," or, "There's nothing quite like you and I." A reference to one of their first conversations. One that was about creations and dreams. Over their time together, through the months of trying to separate themselves and detach their feelings, that conversation had been reworked plenty of times. The words, "I tried not to come…" had been used dry. They would always give in and meet each other again because, "There's nothing quite like it," "There's nothing quite like you," "There's nothing quite like love," and "There's nothing quite like us."_

_Ariadne hadn't moved. He hadn't spotted a turn of her head, couldn't tell if she was even breathing. He licked his lips with what saliva he could gather. His mouth was dry. Had she seen it? She had to have seen it. His optimism plummeted. It's too much. She wanted to say no. Why else wouldn't she turn for him? He tensed. Movement._

_Her heart was thumping out of order; it almost hurt. Still shell-shocked and bewildered, she turned to call to him for help in explaining things, "Arthur?" She saw no one at his desk across the warehouse and then sensed something below. He was on one knee just in front of her. Her breath hitched. She grabbed her heart like he'd given her a heart attack, her eyes grew in size and she had to lean against the desk to keep her legs from giving out. All of the signs pointed to this being a proposal, "Arthur…"_

"_Just hear me out."_

_She nodded, absentmindedly biting her lip. She was transfixed by the sight of him on one knee in front of her. She looked at him like one of the seven wonders of the world. _

_He tried to remember the arrangement of words on the notecards he was studying earlier, "When I first saw yo—No that's not it. When we met, I—uh. Shit. The way I-" He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think. Oh, damn the notecards. His mind was mush. He shook his head, removed his jacket, opened his eyes, and gazed into hers. "I'm not used to being nervous."_

"_I could never make _you _nervous." She half laughed though the humor was lost in her bewilderment. This was just as nerve wracking for her as it was for Arthur._

_He chuckled, "You'd be surprised." He swallowed and gained his composure back. Years of practicing a calm demeanor had to count for something. "Ariadne…I don't know the exact moment it happened. I just know I've been in love with you for _so_ long. When you walked in with Cobb that day, I knew. I knew there was nothing—there was no one quite like you. I just thought that the admiration and respect would be the extent of my feelings. I wonder every second we're together, how miserable my life would be if I'd never kissed you in that dream. If I'd refused to participate in Inception like I wanted to. I can't fathom it. Growing up, you're not exactly what I pictured my dream girl to be…but you're better. You're real, you're…Ariadne." Her name rolled off his tongue like silk with the reverence and obeisance to rival the Pope. Arthur's eyes had begun watering and he took her hand, "Nine hours is a devastatingly long time to be away from you. I just-I love you _so much_ and without you I'm worth nothing. I'm broken, I'm incomplete…"_

"_Arthur…" she breathed._

"_You've stolen much more than secrets from competing companies…You've stolen my thoughts, my self control, my kisses and my heart… I want you to have my name too. Sharing dreams aren't enough, I want to share everything. I'd do anything for you, Ari. _Please…" He brought her hand to his lips then implored, "_Will you marry me?"_

_Her head was shaking. Why was her head shaking? Tears welled in her eyes and…her head was shaking. What could it mean? "It's too much, Arthur."_

_He closed his eyes. He knew it would be. He knew he was going too fast. He knew his feelings had ran away from him and he had fallen faster and harder. He knew he was the only one that wanted this serious commitment. _

"_I don't deserve all of this. I don't deserve you…" Her face leaked tears as she continued and he wanted so much to wipe them away. He stayed grounded on one knee though because she hadn't given him a firm answer. "You deserve to be with someone better, prettier, smarter—"_

"_Such a person doesn't exist…You're the only person I could ever be happy with."_

_Ariadne covered her mouth with her hand and tried to take in all of the praise he was bestowing upon her. She knew he loved her but he'd never been so open and detailed about just how much. It was overwhelmingly magnificent. She had to fumble for her totem. When reality was righteously confirmed, her hand dropped, she bit her lip and began to nod enthusiastically._

"_Is that a—" The pace of Arthur's breathing quickened._

_Her eyes met his with red rims, "Yes," she breathed. _

_The Point Man breathed a sigh of exhilaration and stood to get closer to her. As close as he could manage. "Yes Arthur," it was firm now, her voice fully returning. Her unbreakable, unwavering resolve shot electricity through his system so that his hands were trembling when he went to slip the ring around her finger. His eyes never left Ariadne's. His crying state equal to hers as he kissed the finger and then took both her hands in his and kissed them. "Yes, I'll marry you." She steadily assured him. Afraid that if she stopped saying it, he would take it back. She reveled in how much joy she brought to Arthur every time she repeated the simple word. When Arthur leaned in to kiss her she erupted in tears, "Yes, yes, a million times yes." _

_He could taste the salt of her teardrops mixing with his own. He could feel her hiccupping and laughing and smiling and the elation he himself felt couldn't be contained. He twirled her around like a spinning top and set her down to caress her face-His fiancee's face-The cherubic face of his future bride. _

"_I love you so much, Arthur."_

xxxxxx

Ariadne walked through the darkness of their flat. When she turned the corner she was greeted with a dark figure that made her heart momentarily stop, "Jesus, Arthur." She put her hand on her chest, "You gave me a heart attack."

He wasn't phased in the slightest that he'd startled her, "I've been worried sick. It's almost midnight, where have you been?" He flicked the lamp in their living room on.

A little more settled, she took her coat off and laid her keys and wallet on the table. She shrugged non-chalantly and jutted her hip against the table. "I was having dinner with Miles."

"No call? I go to cancel our appointment and you just disappear for the entire afternoon and the better part of the night? I had a mind to go searching for you." (Never mind that he'd already done that.)

She shrugged and entwined their hands to ease him, "I meant to call or leave a note. We were catching up and I just got a little carried away."

He pulled his hand from her grasp, "Why are you lying to me?" Arthur grunted. When had she started lying to him? What was the exact moment, what was his exact word or action that had catapulted them into this situation? He needed to know so he could go back and rip that moment from history.

She swallowed and started to get weary, "I'm not."

"Another one…. I talked to Miles yesterday; he's still stateside with his wife and won't be back until late next week." Ariadne tensed and began rocking back and forth on her heels, "Who were you with?"

"I'm tired, can we just go to bed?" The architect avoided his eyes and started trudging away.

Arthur jibed, "Tell me who you were with and we can."

Silence. She didn't know how to answer that. She halted in her path to the stairs with her hand on the start of the rail. Her eyes darted around in the dark hoping to land on an answer for him. Absentmindedly, her nails started to pick away at the wood under them "…Or you could go back to Eames and spend the night with him."

Her eyes darted back to him, her heart in her throat, "What did you just say?"

"What? You think I don't know who you call every day?" Her airways started to constrict as her fiancé started pacing to her. "Who you whisper rushed goodbyes to when I walk through the door? You think I actually believe you when you say you're going to the grocery or the library for the millionth time during the week? I've followed you. I know you leave to see him!" His eyes bore into hers and the guilt swam inside of her, made her insides murky and polluted with itself.

"Ok, yes," She confessed, "I've been seeing Eames a lot but it's not what you think!" She rushed out.

"Like hell it's not. If it were innocent you wouldn't be sneaking around behind my back."

She put her hands on her hips, "It IS innocent and I snuck around because I knew you'd act like this."

"Like what?" He threw his hands in the air.

"A jealous idiot!" She pushed back him and walked back into living area. "You hate Eames. You cringe every time I ask for him so why would I tell you I'm visiting him? I can't help that he makes me feel safe!"

He raised his eyebrows, "I don't? Every second I'm breathing, I worry about keeping you safe. "

The old issues resurfaced in the blink of an eye and her image of him in all of her hallucinations—the image of murderous, manic, out of control Arthur—was the image that put itself before her and she yelled to it. Confronted it. "You killed Cobb! You were going to kill his children, you scare me!"

"It's not like I wanted to, Ariadne!" He grabbed her wrists and held them with more roughness than he ever had. It was never tight enough to crush her, or hurt her, or even leave a mark but it wasn't the hold she was used to. "Cobb was my mentor, my best friend, my brother, my father figure…I loved him…but I did what I had to do for you. I killed him for _YOU_, to keep you safe! To keep our baby safe!" His voice became gruff at the memory of her miscarriage. The miniscule body in the shoebox that he buried alone.

"Well our baby is dead now, isn't it?" Her voice dripped with ice. She hated to think of their lost baby, it embodied their lost happiness and trust. Their herculean strong relationship. Those words were aimed at her own ego. Her own body. She lashed out at it verbally. She really blamed herself for the waste of Cobb's death. "You killed them for nothing. I wish I were dead instead of all of them. Philippa, James, Cobb, our baby! I live with guilt every day because I'm the one alive and they're not! I hate myself every second but Eames makes it bearable."

He turned and sulked away from her back into their kitchen, "And you think I'm a monster, I know... It kills me. Every time you look at me, all I see is disgust in them." Arthur started to choke.

Ariadne had followed but stopped in the doorway, "Arthur."

"How do you think it makes me feel? You're my fiancée. I loved you first." He faced away and wouldn't look at her as his insecurities revealed themselves in full throttle.

She calmed down, his meltdown shedding a different light, "Arthur…"

"You think I don't know why you wanted to postpone our wedding?" Arthur used the island as a crutch, "Because you love _him _now."

Oh God. How could he think that? How could Arthur ever think she could feel that way about anyone else? The Point Man was her oxygen, he was part of her. Her vision of the world shrunk and caved into a tunnel; how could she have made him feel that way? _What have you done, Ariadne?_ "Arthur, I don't." She softened. She walked to stand in front of him and twist his body around to see into his eyes. Really see what was going on in his head.

"You hate me."

"No," She gasped like she had killed someone. That she had gotten a gun and shot Arthur and he was lying on the ground bleeding to death. Not only had she made him feel like her feelings for him had waned but she'd drove him to the point of believing that she hated him with her whole soul. She took his face in her hands and began rubbing his cheek with her thumbs, "I don't hate you and I don't love Eames—not like I love you- I could never love anyone like I love you. Here's the honest to God truth about what I've been doing: I have flashbacks and nightmares from the incident…when it happens, it feels like I'm back in that warehouse and it's all real. In that mindset, you're not _my_ Arthur. You're different and you scare me. Eames is the one who saved us when it happened. When my mind reverts to those memories, I need Eames. I need him to talk me back into reality. To come save us again and bring my Arthur back. I can't help it, I just need him."

His volume fell to a whisper, "You're supposed to need me that way."

"I know." It was melancholy and she caressed the tip of his ear tenderly.

Arthur tentatively put his hands on her waist, "I have them too. Except you're my Eames. If I can't find you, if I can't hear your voice…" he dropped his eye contact, "I think I've failed. My brain tells me one of two things: Either you've left with Eames and abandoned me in that warehouse or t-that I've shot you too…Ari" He stressed, "I think _I've killed you too_…and-" He slides down the furniture to sit and covers his face in his hands. His own nightmares taking effect. In the dreaming world, he's killed her and in the waking world, she doesn't love him.

She kneels beside him and hears him ask vulnerably, "You don't want to marry me anymore, do you?"

"_Of course I do_," the girl rested her forehead on his temple, "I went to Eames because I was so broken up over our fight, about you doubting how much I care about you. I cried to him about you all afternoon. I'm still in love with you, Arthur. You just have to be patient with me. We've been through a bunch of trauma but we'll get over this and we'll—we'll be just like we were again."

Arthur turned his head to look at her, both their eyes watering. "I promise you, it's nothing." She kissed him, the first meaningful one she's bestowed in a while. Full, delicate, silky. "Let's go to bed." She stood and offered her hands to help him up. He held them still after he'd stood and placed another kiss on her lips. They'd kept their fingers entwined with one another until they were upstairs and tucked into bed. Ariadne held his arms in their place around her and caressed his forearm until she fell asleep. That night she fought to will the nightmares away with Arthur's presence instead of Eames'.


	17. The Existence

Thank you _cinematherapy!_

**Chapter 17- The Existence**

The next morning, Ariadne made herself call Eames as soon as Arthur had left the house. Eames, although used to her calling at all hours at random, was peeved that it was so damn early. She couldn't have waited until the sun came up?

"Eames, he knows…"

"That doesn't surprise me. No offense, darling, but you're not that inconspicuous and he _is_ a Point Man."

She said frantically, "He thinks we're having a full blown affair. He thinks I'd rather be with you."

"Well, you do come off that way." He chortled through his sleep.

"You're not helping!" Her raspy voice cracked, getting used to talking after sleeping for so long. "One of his old partners called like ten minutes ago to check up on him. He said he came by yesterday afternoon to drop off the last check and he found Arthur in a sputtering, drunken stupor. He said he had to dunk him in the bathtub and take care of him until like 9:30 last night. And when I came home, he was a wreck."

"You were a wreck when you showed up at my house…look at what you're doing to each other."

Ariadne huffed, "Eames, what are we going to do? "

"We? Oh no, no. You, my Dear, are going to stop all of this calling and visiting me and you're going to get help from a shrink!"

"It has to do with dream sharing! I can't divulge all of that information to a random shrink! You know my issues; you know why I need you to help me with them!"

Eames shook his head as if she could see him, "You are becoming too dependent on me. I can't stay in Paris forever, Ariadne. Once I get the all clear from my men in Britain, I'm going back. In the meantime, your romance with Arthur is suffering and—we may not be cuddle buddies but Arthur is one of my best friends and I don't want him thinking I would hurt him like this."

"I don't know why he has such a problem with it, though."

"Ariadne," Eames tone became condescending, "You put yourself in his shoes. What if all of a sudden he didn't want to marry you anymore and you found out he'd been sneaking behind your back to call and see Clarisse."

The other end of the phone was silenced. Eames could almost feel her blood boil as she imagined that situation. She defended, "That's not the same."

"Look. Enough is enough. We've crossed over into dangerous territory and I'm drawing the line. I don't know what is going on in Arthur's mind but…He's acted shockingly cavalier through all of this. You know there are issues bursting at his seams. You can't expect him to still be the secure, collected, perfect Point Man he was when you first met him. It's the calm before the storm; I fear there is only one more thread left to snap…and I don't want a bullet in my head."

He heard her gulp, "I'll be more careful."

"I'm not doing this anymore!"

"Eames, I'll try, ok? I'll work my hardest to wean myself off of your help and I'll shower Arthur with affection. I promise, I'll handle it on my own as much as I can if you'll just please be there when I absolutely can't do it myself." The static pause sat between them as Eames contemplated her request, "I'm already better than I was. I'm getting over it; I just need a little more time."

"Fine."

Ariadne breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"But no more coming to see me without Arthur. If you must have help, you call me. Yes?"

"Yes."

"However, no more calling me at night and absolutely no more calling me if Arthur is within 50 feet. If so, you're on you're on your own, yes?"

"Yes."

"And every time you leave that house, you tell Arthur where you're going. You ask him to come too whether he does or not and if not, you tell him he can call you anytime or call who you're with anytime. Nothing can even hint at secrecy. Yes?"

"Yes."

"I'm going back to sleep now."

xxxxxx

Upon Arthur's arrival home, Ariadne greeted him at the door, Rex jumping around their feet. Still in her pajama pants but wearing the button-up he'd worn the day before. He distinctly remembered putting it in the hamper last night and realized that she must have dug it out purposefully…it must've smelt like her. After he shed his trench coat, hung his keys on the rack and placed his suitcase in its spot she pulled him down to kiss her with a smile. It surprised him. First: that she had kissed him upon arrival like old times. Second: that even with all the suspicion and tension that had crowded them lately, her kiss still made him warm and fuzzy inside. He still breathed in her smell like it was the stuff oxygen was made of. His mood had turned around, "What smells so good?"

She pretended to straighten the knot on his tie, "I cooked us dinner…"

His mood lifted even more; she hadn't cooked them dinner in what seemed like forever. "Oh really? What do we have?"

Ariadne pulled him by his tie into the kitchen, "Chicken Cordon Bleu, buttered asparagus and my sweet potato casserole that you're obsessed with."

"And what is this?" After sucking in the aroma of the meal he pointed to a dish covered with a glass cake top.

"Oh yeah! We have cheesecake for dessert," She looked at him guiltily, "I cheated on it, though, I didn't make it. Annie bought like five for Ethan's fifth birthday and the kids all thought it was disgusting. So she bought them a buttload of cookies and dropped these off." The Architect sauntered to the fridge and opened for proof, "We have four more waiting on us." Then she walked back over to the cheesecake and picked at the top of the covering, "I did get a jar of cherries to pour on top though," Arthur slowly made his way in front of her and her voice gradually grew more demure, "Cause I know it's your favori-"

She froze and eyed him questioningly while he grazed her neck with his fingers and anchored her head. The apprehension fled her body when his mouth upturned (only slightly but it was a smile), "I love you."

Inside she was screaming with ease, she'd hoped for this reaction all day as she cooked for him. And for some unknown reason she found herself blurting out, "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry? What had she done that she cooked this big dinner to atone for? Arthur's stomach fluttered, "For what?"

She fiddled with the buttons on his shirt-a habit of hers when they stood close and whispered like this. "For not telling you enough how much I love you too. I wanted to do something to show you that I do think about you when we're apart. I do miss you when you go to work." She nimbly slipped her hands into his, "I wanted to show you that I miss doing special things for you." Ariadne rested her forehead on his chest and basked in the smell of peppermint and leather, "That I miss how things used to be before the incident."

Ariadne felt the comforting sensation of his voice resonating through his chest and vibrating, "Thank you. It looks lovely."

"It's probably cold now," She lifted her head off of him and looked at it, suddenly disappointed with it all. The Architect offered, "You don't have eat it…I kinda figured you had stayed and ate with the boys at the warehouse when you didn't come home at 6." Accepting the scenario, she shrugged.

She felt her chin being lifted up and the Point Man's soft eyes looking contentedly at her. In them, she saw the immaculate man Cobb had introduced her to almost two years ago and the phenomenal lover that proposed not but a year later than that. Those eyes enveloped her in silky comfort and made her glow every time she gazed into them, to this day. It gave her hope that she could do this. She could get over these issues with Arthur by her side. The old feelings for him rushing back and becoming overwhelming gave her the optimism she needed, made her believe that those feelings would remain more prevalent than the ones that Fischer tried to instill. His soothing, glossy voice broke her reverie, "I'm starving. Let's eat."

Ecstatic that the meal she'd slaved over would be enjoyed, she beamed at him. She rewarded him with a kiss on his cheek and passed him a plate to fill.

xxxxxx

Arthur went to bed satisfied. His stomach full and wanting for nothing and his chest overflowing. The dinner was magnificent and they had sat up and pecked at each other sweetly like two people who'd just realized their feelings for each other. It was bliss. Arthur hadn't wanted to ruin the streak of sweetness, though. So when they decided to get some sleep, he kept his distance and stayed on his side of the bed just in case she had another flashback and needed space.

He woke to her heavy breathing again. Her jerks and spasms in her sleep. Arthur knew the drill, knew she was having another nightmare and knew she'd most likely wake and leave him for the couch. She was muttering and tossing and turning, "Arthur, please don't. No, get away from me. You're scaring me. Leave them alone." The Point Man squeezed his eyelids shut in attempt to block out the sentences he wished she didn't mean but the subconscious was an honest thing. Like a bomb going off, she darted awake. Arthur pretended to be sound asleep so as not to startle her. It's not like she'd let him help anyway. He heard her start to cry and try to muffle it so she wouldn't wake him. He felt her side of the bed return to its normal shape without her weight on it and waited to hear her close the bathroom door and whisper with Eames. He never heard it though, in fact she rolled back into bed. He squinted his eyes open and saw the light blue pin stripe of the shirt he'd worn earlier, her back was to him and she was still whimpering. Arthur watched her back and strained his ears when he heard her start to whisper to herself, "He would never hurt you. Arthur would never hurt you. He wouldn't willfully kill a good person." Her hands went to her ears and she started rocking. He heard her chant to herself, "Think about Inception. Right after Mal first stabbed you…Penrose Staircases…Kiss in the hotel…A week at that level…"

She rolled over and he feigned asleep again. Arthur had to restrain himself when her hand caressed his face, "_That's_ your Arthur. That's _your_ Arthur and he would never hurt anyone." A moment of silence, a few more soft strokes against his cheek. Her body pressed into him, her back to his chest and her head under his chin. Arthur felt her gently take his hand and move his arm to curve around her. She resumed her whispering to herself, her hiccups dissipating. "February 21st, our first kiss in reality."

Arthur felt her waist contract with a few laughs and dared to open his eyes since her back was to him anyways. Ariadne must've thought he was still asleep because she started addressing him too but while talking to herself. "Do you remember that?" She started tracing his forearm. "I kissed you in the warehouse at the end of the day, after we finished going over your level in the dream. I told you it wasn't fair that you could steal as many kisses as you wanted every time we went under but I couldn't steal any in reality. I think it was the first time I felt those tingles for you, like I was numb from all the electricity you shot through me." Ariadne adjusted his hand placement and resumed running her fingers all over his forearm and palm. "You were so upset that I made you feel something for a change and that I'd done it in front of Yusuf…you gave me the silent treatment until I left. I remember being so nervous to see you the next day. I knew it would be awkward and embarrassing…I got there at like 8:30, I think?" Her tears had subsided and her breathing at a normal rate. Ariadne's nightmare long forgotten for a memory. "We were the only two there and I was so ready to tell you off." She laughed to herself and Arthur smiled. "And then you kissed me and you kept kissing me over and over until we heard Eames jiggle the door open and we pulled away like wildfire. You even blushed a little that time."

The Architect turned to face him and his eyes flew closed, "We didn't go another day without kissing each other in reality until you went to Australia." He heard her sigh, felt her lips on his chin and felt her snuggle closer and wrap her arms around his waist. Felt her start to succumb to a peaceful rest again.

The first nightmare that she needed thoughts of him to get through. The first nightmare that she pulled him closer instead of pushing him away. Arthur's heart and pride swelled as his hold on her tightened.


	18. The Descent

First off, thanks to _Moviefanatic2.0 _and whoever _Anonymous Guest _was =) thank you for the constructive criticism about Ariadne's attitude. You guys gotta keep me on track! Lol. I appreciate you mentioning that stuff so I can fix it and make the story more enjoyable. Almost done! :)

**Chapter 18: The Descent**

They carried on like that for weeks. Ariadne was gradually having less and less troubles, she still needed Eames sometimes but limited herself to just a few. Arthur would always come home to her cooking and they would snuggle and talk and peck at each other like before. They eased back into their weekend routine, going out all day on Saturday and spending all day in on Sunday. Takeout and ice cream and movies and Arthur's mood had greatly improved. He hadn't had a jealous or bitter thought towards the forger in weeks, almost a month now. Arthur's team had extracted that day and it went off without a hitch. He was headed home early, intent on being the one to cook for her this time. She actually said she'd had some ideas to show him about the wedding that she'd found on the internet and the Point Man was brimming with joy that she had brought it up. He couldn't wait to get home.

When he pulled up, Clarisse was just coming out the door. Ariadne was standing by it and waving to her. "Merci, Ariadne. J'adore!"

"Bye! Let me know how it goes."

Arthur politely greeted Clarisse in passing and opened her car door for her. He watched her speed away and jogged up the stairs to twirl Ariadne around. "I take it your job went over perfectly?"

"It did."

"Well…it is you." They pecked and went inside. Some of her sketches were pulled out all over the living room, Arthur asked why. "Miles was approached about someone wanting to build a cottage in the country and he remembered that I'd designed one for an exam last year. He wanted to know if I could fax them to him…trying to find them."

Arthur beamed, "Ari, that's wonderful. Your first real life structure!"

She bit her lip and squealed, "I know! I hope he likes them."

"God, I'm so proud of you, Sweetheart." She squeezed his neck as his picked her up. "After you get this done, I think we should have dinner at the Eiffel to celebrate our successes."

She nodded and Arthur retired to their bathroom to relieve himself. He was zipping up his pants when he noticed something odd in the trash can. A weirdly colored box with flowers on it. He flushed and leaned down to pick it up and read it. His heart stopped…the big blue capital letters: 'Pregnancy Test' were sprawled across the top. He turned the box over and over in his palms. Reading the instructions and the guarantees like he didn't understand what it was. 'Be 100 percent sure!' 'Detect before your first missed period!' '1. Pee on stick. 2. Wait—'

He wasn't reading this. This box got in here by mistake. He threw it back in the trash like it was diseased and fished for a slender white stick…it was hidden beneath loads of tissue and toothbrush packages but he pulled it. Arthur grew nauseous and his heart started beating fast. He stared at the pregnancy stick and an unholy little pink plus sign stared him back. This wasn't happening…His hands had started to shake. He threw the stick back into the trash can with a force, nearly snapping it in two. Then he retched his guts out into the toilet bowl.

Arthur was pacing. This wasn't possible. Ariadne couldn't be pregnant. They hadn't been intimate since before the incident. Weeks, months. And yet, he knew she couldn't have miraculously conceived on her own. Ariadne was pregnant and it was someone else's baby. Ariadne had been touched by someone else in the places only he should be privy to. Who was he kidding? Someone else? It was Eames. He hadn't stopped, she hadn't stopped, they just got better at hiding it and sneaking around behind his back. Oh, that move about bringing up the wedding was clever on her part. They were sick. Both of them. How could she do this to him? She lost his baby, so she decided she had to have someone else's? It wasn't Arthur that miscarried it was the Architect. She's been lying to him. Been overly sweet, been cooking for him, and cuddling with him and then stabbing him in the back and screwing his coworker. Eames. Eames for fuck's sake. What did she see in him? What had he ever done for her?

Arthur was the one who gave up everything for her. Arthur was the one who sacrificed his best friend for her. Arthur was the one who paid off big companies if a job didn't go well so she could stay in Paris. So he could give her a stable life and she wouldn't have to live on the run. Arthur was the one who ate, slept, and breathed Ariadne. He was the one who was head over heels for her, who would do anything for her, who wasn't whole without her. Eames just wanted her to spite him. Eames didn't care for her like Arthur. Eames _couldn't_ care for her like Arthur. No one in the world could love or care for anyone more than Arthur did for that woman. His woman. His fiancée. She was supposed to be his. _She was his_.

She wasn't always like this. She used to feel the same way. She used to be honest with him. This person wasn't Ariadne. She wouldn't do this him; she wouldn't be capable. His Ariadne adored him, his Aria—that was it. She was different because she had been seeking help from Eames. Eames was messing with her mind. Eames had told her things to turn her against Arthur. Eames was making her nightmares worse, making Arthur out to be the bad guy. Eames was warping her sense of their relationship, turning her into a liar and a cheat and a slut. Eames was corrupting his Ariadne. Eames had taken her away from him. And if God was Arthur's witness, he would put her mind back to where it was. He was getting her back at any cost because this wasn't acceptable. This wouldn't happen. This would go no further.

Arthur stormed out of the bathroom and slammed every door he passed, he raced down the stairs and brushed passed Ariadne without a second glance. "Arthur?" He slammed the front door and she heard the loud sound of the accelerator zooming off. When he'd come home three hours later, Ariadne was worried sick. Nibbling at her nails, tapping her feet, sitting by the front door. He sauntered in like he'd never stormed out. A bright smile on his face, blissful even. Ariadne shot to her feet and took his hands in hers, "Arthur, are you ok?"

"I'm wonderful. I've begun a new job." He put on his charming smile and whisked her away to dinner like they'd planned. They continued their easy, fakely infatuated, semblance of a relationship for two and a half weeks.

And then one day, the shadow fell.

Ariadne woke from her nap one day to a reckless pounding on her front door. Groggily she sat up, not expecting Arthur to be home yet and answered. Eames pushed his way inside and shut the door, panting and maniacally ordering, "Ariadne, pack your stuff! You've got to get out of here!"


	19. Falls The Shadow

Yay! Thanks to: _Deezy23, nowarning23, _and _Moviefanatic2.0_  
Ariadne and Arthur love you guys.

**Chapter 19: Falls The Shadow**

**An hour earlier. **

Eames didn't have very many friends due to traveling the globe often but the few he had he tried to keep up with every now and then. This particular friend, Pete, Eames had known for years. He was the first chemist Eames had had the pleasure of working with and Pete was in town on business. They ran into each other on the street and decided to catch up over lunch. They prattled about different business ventures when alarming news came into focus. Pete's cell phone had rung and he'd just come back from taking the call.

"Don't you just love when your extractor calls to yell at you?" Pete joked, "I swear this guy is anal."

Eames scoffed, thinking of one of his best friends, "You don't know anal, Pete."

"No. This guy is insane. Probably OCD. And obsessed…I didn't know a guy could be so f*cking in love."

"One of those, eh?" The forger teased.

"If I had known what he planned on doing from the get-go I would have let the next guy take it. This guy thinks he can pull off another Inception."

Eames eyebrows furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean this guy is an idiot. His fiancée and him suffered some weird ass trauma and now he thinks she doesn't love him anymore. And he is so jealous he can't see straight, it literally empowers everything he does. He thinks he can incept the idea that she still loves him into her brain so she won't leave him for his best friend. How f*cked up is that?"

"Pete, what's the mark's name?" Eames held his breath.

His friend scrunched up his nose and drank some more Pepsi, "I don't know. It's something complicated. I don't know what her parents were thinking when they named her. It's like Pig Latin or something….Armani? Armiade? Aritardi?"

"Ariadne?"

"Yeah! That's it! Ariadne Bourgeois! She's a looker though…I can understand his infatuation."

Eames' skin started to crawl at the prospect of Arthur planning something so devious and dark against the Architect. Arthur's own trauma must have stinted his reasonable thoughts. The only thing he had left was Ariadne and their relationship and it had become Arthur's obsession and driving life force. Arthur had felt threatened with losing it all and now was making rash decisions in an effort to save what was his, if it meant crawling on rock bottom. "Don't tell me the client's name is Arthur?"

"Yeah. Client, Extractor _and_ Point Man. Why?"

"When is the job set to be executed?" Please not today. Please not today. Please not today.

"It's looking good, probably tomorrow. It depends on whether she leaves to see that guy tomorrow afternoon or not. Then we might wait until their date night."

Eames took one last sip of his drink as he stood up, snatched his coat and threw some bills on the table, "Nice seeing ya, Pete. I've gotta run."  
xxxxxx

**Present.**

Eames had invaded their bedroom, threw a suitcase on the bed and began opening the drawers and sifting through the closet to throw everything remotely feminine in.

"I can't leave Arthur."

"You have to, Darling. He's lost it. You're not safe with him anymore." He briskly entered her bathroom, grabbed what he believed to be hers and tossed them in the suitcase carelessly as well.

The forger never overreacted. If anything, he underreacted, if he even reacted at all. He let everything brush over and expected the best out of every situation. He expected all worries to fizzle away eventually. He was fretless, so for him to be barging into her house insisting that something was wrong was more than worrisome for the Architect. "What do you mean I'm not 'safe with him?' We've been fine. He's been acting normal."

He took her shoulders and squared them to him, "Ariadne, he's going to incept you. I've just had lunch with his chemist."

It felt like someone had grasped her lungs and started squeezing. Her hand flew to her heart and her eyes widened almost out of their sockets. "Wha…?"

"And the work is done. They're just waiting for the opportune time."

Gradually, the cloud of shock dissipated from around her head. Like a well-oiled machine or a mind controlled zombie, she blankly and robotically moved to help Eames pack the rest of her stuff. Arthur's betrayal weighed heavily on her brain waves. While Eames was downstairs collecting more things of hers and food for the road, Ariadne slipped in a couple of Arthur's button ups and her favorite picture of them. He may be dangerous and plotting against her but she still loved him and leaving him like this was going to be hard enough. Surely, the separation would only ruin her. Eames reappeared, dumped his findings into the suitcase and hurriedly zipped it up. As he did so, he ushered her to throw on her coat and shoes.

Eames had parked on the other side of the apartments to avoid recognition of his car should Arthur show up. For once he'd thought ahead. He was opening the trunk when Ariadne felt that sickening feeling of leaving something behind. "I left my messenger bag!"

"Well, we'll buy you a new one."

"No. My life is in that bag, if I needed to bring anything, it's that! It has my sketches, my supplies, my phone, my wallet…and Rex! I can't leave my puppy!" She didn't add that she also couldn't leave a red colored pencil with a white ribbon tied around it. The one that had worn her engagement ring before she did. Eames bit his lip and thought hard…Finally he nodded, "I'll finish loading the car and pull around. Hurry, though."  
xxxxxx

She sprinted around the apartment building, up the flight of steps and fumbled with the spare key to their flat. Once inside, Ariadne hurriedly looked around, not really thinking but mostly doing the motions and expecting her bag to jump out and say 'here I am.' She nearly forgot what she came for and then jolt of epiphany waved through her and she realized she'd left it upstairs under her nightstand. She did that thing you do when you're trying to climb stairs quickly. She skipped every couple (and that proved to be more difficult than her mind imagined because of her short legs.) Ariadne dove to spot on the ground where her bag had been left and threw it over her shoulder. Her puppy danced out of her bathroom and looked up at her with sweet brown eyes. His collar dangling his name and taking her back to the moment Arthur had revealed him to her.

Reality hit her like a brick. She was leaving Arthur. She'd packed her stuff, threw it in Eames' car and would be hundreds of miles away before he found out. Arthur would come home from work and notice her empty spot on the couch. He would ascend the stairs with a smile, intent on surprising her with a hug from behind and a sweet kiss. He would open their bedroom door to find it cleaned out. She observed the room's state as if she was Arthur. Her drawers of the dresser sprawled open and empty. All of her clothes missing from their closet, not but a few things hanging pathetically on a hanger here and a couple scarves fallen on the floor there. In Arthur's position, were she to come home to this, she'd be devastated. But there was a reason. Arthur wasn't the same. He was plotting against her now; he was going to invade her mind. For her own safety and morality, she needed to get out. With that, she took one last look at the room that held a plethora of memories and turned her back on it. She was at the top step and fixing to descend when her hand was grabbed and she was pulled down to a kiss.

"Arthur!" Well this was awkward.

He was a few steps below her and took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her waist and smile up at her. Making her wonder why she would ever want to walk out on him. "Hey you."

"You're home early…" Her voice wavered a bit as he reached the step just below hers and his face eye level. Those sparkling eyes made her want to run the other direction.

"Yeah. The work for the job is done…So I told them I wanted to come home and take you to dinner." Arthur then took in her red coat, her ankle boots and her messenger bag, "Unless you're going somewhere?" His countenance dropped marginally but she saw him try to shake it off. He looked down at his watch and his next smile was fake, "It's only four. I can always wait three or four hours for you to get back and we can go then." Arthur brushed passed her, unbuttoning his suit and entering their bedroom.

She sucked in an exorbitant amount of air and shut her eyes for what she knew was coming. Ariadne could've just taken off and ran back to Eames car and rammed the gas pedal before Arthur had the chance to make sense of it. But that didn't seem right. She had been caught, fair and square, and she would handle this maturely…before leaving. She would understand why he was doing this.

Arthur lazily entered their room and tossed his jacket over the chair in the corner when he noticed something missing. The reading table was missing a picture of him and Ariadne. Arthur wasn't the type of person to show sentimentality. He wasn't the type of person to deck the halls with framed photographs of him and his friends or family. He didn't like taking pictures and he didn't like his face all over his own house. Ariadne on the other hand, loved pictures. They were frozen memories, she would call them. _She _had pictures up all over her side of the room of her and old college friends, the Inception team and her cousin. The one picture he'd let her put up of him (he bought the frame, too) was his favorite of them. Cobb had invited them to LA for Phillipa's 3rd grade graduation and Yusuf had sneakily shot the picture without Arthur knowing. Ariadne was in a blue dress and his tie had matched it. In the picture, Ariadne was in mid laugh, looking at the camera and Arthur was kissing her cheek. He loved the picture because it was purely candid and it captured the very essence of their relationship. Ariadne always laughing and making him smile and Arthur always stealing kisses from her to make her laugh. The picture was taken months before he proposed and even a bit before they agreed to live together. It was back when they were discovering each other and he liked to look on it and be reminded of how they felt about each other. How they would always feel about each other. Now that was gone.

This puzzlement is what led him to turn and observe the rest of the room for anything else out of place. What he found was the strange sense that this room had become void of anything Ariadne. All of her stuff had been cleaned out. This realization made his toes tingle and his face flush. He was at the doorway then, her figure still standing there.

"You're leaving me?"

He saw her shoulders rise up and down, signaling a deep breath. Ariadne slowly turned her head over shoulder. She was looking at him in this way, that alone, made his breathing terse. Water already began to sting his eyes because the look she gave him was a look he'd never seen and hoped he never would: Pity. Guilt. Confirmation of his thoughts. "I'm sorry, Arthur."

"Why? I don't—"

"Ariadne! Did you find your—" Arthur's eyes locked on the forger's with loathing. And so released a string of curse words from Eames, "Arthur, you're home early."

"I know." Arthur gritted. He looked Ariadne, back at Eames, Ariadne, "You're leaving me for _him_."

"Arthur, no." She said it like he was child and she was telling him he couldn't do something.

Back at Eames, "You just can't stand me being happy. Can you?" Grimly, Arthur began making his way down towards Eames. When he passed her, Ariadne put her hand on his shoulder to keep him from descending, "Arthur." Ariadne gave him a warning look and gripped her fingers into his shoulder. It normally would've kept him in line but this time was different.

The Point Man tugged his shoulder out of her reach with a look ready to kill. His focus never shifted from Eames. "You're always trying to cut me down…Making Ariadne yours was just the ultimate insult wasn't it? I loved her _first_, Eames."

"It's not like that, lad." Eames shook his head and backed down a few steps.

Arthur was too close for comfort. He stood on the bottom level now in front of Eames. His face was a mask of calm before the storm. Unmoving, blank, stoic. Out of nowhere, Eames felt blood trickling down his nose and a cold aching pain in his head. "You turned her against me!"

Eames held his hands up in surrender above his head, "Arthur, I—"

Another blow to his stomach, "You took her from me!" The Point Man shoved Eames into their breakfast table and tore a curtain rod from behind him. He began smashing the cabinets, shattering the glass, making holes in the wall, "You know what I've done for her? I've given up everything for her!" Ariadne winced when he threw the rod across the room and it knocked a lamp off, shattering it on the floor. She made her way down to Eames in haste and gently analyzed his swelling eye.

Arthur pulled dishes out of the smashed open cabinets and threw them on the tiled floor, "She is _everything _to me! Is this what you wanted Eames?" The Point Man maniacally pulled his jacket off and tossed it in a ball away from him. He picked up a shard of dish and held it so tightly he hand started to bleed. "To take everything from me?"

"Arthur!" Ariadne yelled to stop him but he'd taken the shard and cut his shirt with it, some of his flesh coming off with it then he tossed it into the sink, let it shatter some more. "Make me less of a compliant, robot?"

Ariadne was a mixture of terrified and angry, "Arthur, stop it now!"

"Arthur," Eames cautiously pushed Ariadne aside, gestured for her to stay out of it and made his way to the man. He put a hand on his shoulder while Arthur took a chance to look at Ariadne pointedly. His fist collided with the Forger's face again. And again. He ignored Ariadne's pleading voice. Arthur kneed the other man in the crotch and pushed him to the wall, his hands on Eames' throat. "I hope you're happy…" He gritted as Eames sputtered and flailed his arms, trying to push Arthur off of him.

Ariadne was in front of Arthur somehow, pushing his arms to his side and guiding him back to sit on the stairs. Her body created a shield for Eames as long as she stood between them. He still leaned towards Eames as he was being pushed back, "You've been screwing my fiancée!"

Ariadne sat him down and looked him in the eye, bewildered, "What?" Eames was too busy sucking in air, finding a wet rag and cradling his nose to be too affected by the accusation.

"I found the test in the trash in our bathroom. I know you're pregnant with _his_ baby…You haven't let me touch you like that since the miscarriage."

She straightened at the news, confused. "Arthur, I'm not pregnant at all."

"Haven't you lied to me enough?" Then he yelled, "I saw it!"

The Architect kneeled in front of him, "That was Clarisse's. Her and Claude are having a baby…she was afraid he'd leave her if he found out so I let her take the test here."

He didn't believe it. Arthur dropped eye contact and shook his head angrily. Ariadne stood to tower over him, upset that he wouldn't take her word. "I'm not pregnant!" The Architect screamed at him. She let her chagrin hit him with full force. How dare he think she'd do that to him. "Get me another test and watch me pee on it! Take me to the OBGYN! I'm _not _pregnant! I'm not sleeping with Eames!"

"Then why are you leaving me?" This time Arthur stood. He now towered over her rather than the other way around. Eyes boring accusingly into hers.

Ariadne stepped back. Disappointment shadowing her face. "Don't make me out to be the bad guy, here. I wasn't the one planning to incept you. _I _wasn't the one plotting to betray you and infect your mind." She seethed with a look of disgust. "If anyone should be mad- if either of us had the right to leave, it's me."

His face sobered. Anger gone. "How'd you find that out?"

Her arms crossed over her chest, "Your chemist is friends with Eames." She pivoted and stormed away from him, stepping over the broken lamp as she went.

Arthur's hand clinched around her wrist. He tried to explain, "Your mind was taking you away from me…"

"No." She faced him again, "_Your _mind was taking me away from you."

Arthur dejectedly turned his head. It was her voice lilting down its normal tone—devoid of animosity- that made his eyes lock with hers again, "You don't have to incept the idea that I'm still in love with you into my mind, Arthur. I still do. _How many times_ do I have to reassure you? I always have and I always will. No matter how many jobs gone wrong, no matter how many deaths or miscarriages or fights, it will always be _you."_

She caught Arthur's gaze flickering to a point behind her and she followed his gaze to the forger. Eames was still holding his head back and bloodying their kitchen towel. Ariadne looked back at Arthur, face red, eyes wet. The Architect brought her hand up to slap him across the face. "Why won't you believe me? _Why can't you give me the benefit of the doubt!"_

Arthur's hand slid up to feel the stinging patch of skin. It was such a shock that she had done so that he needed to further feel the discomfort to confirm it.

"I can't help that Fischer decided to torture us. I can't help that I have nightmares and flashbacks and I can't help that they make me scared of you." She tried to meet his eyes again. "I can't help that I need Eames to make them go away. I wish it was you, I wish I could change it but I _can't. _I _tried, _Arthur. I can't live with them. And I can't live knowing that you think I'm cheating on you every time I walk out that door. You can't love me if you don't trust me."

"Well I can't help the way I feel about Eames. I can't help questioning everything you do. I have my own nightmares, Ariadne. I'm helpless to my own views and problems." His Point Man voice was back.

The Architect brushed her fingertips against his. The sinking feeling she felt when her fingers weaved as his curled away was blunt and unforgiving. Her hand ended up grasping at his fist before dropping to her side altogether. "You're all packed, just go."

She opened her mouth—

"No. Obviously, neither of us can stand to live this way anymore. We had our time together and I'm letting you go. I'm giving you a way out. Go do whatever you need to, to be able to live with yourself." He scoffed, recalling a memory, "Browning said we wouldn't love each other when they were through with us…"

She could handle the suspicion. She could handle the anger. She could handle his insecurities and his accusations. She could almost, _almost _handle the prospect of his betrayal. What Ariadne could not handle was the thought of him not loving her anymore. Out of nowhere. Out of her strong-willed, hard-headed persona. Out of her fiery eyes and her set jaw, her tears spilled over and seemed they would never stop. Ariadne's heart was constricting and everything burned when she tried to step forward and just touch him, just be held by him. She grabbed his neck and tried to save the sinking ship. Ariadne was trying to salvage the feelings they had left, to make this work, to make the words he'd just uttered a lie. How could they have come to this? How on earth could it have gotten this far? She wanted nothing more than to rewind everything. Absolutely everything and be in that hotel. Be in that skirt suit. Have no problems except having to come up with a distraction. "Quick, give me a kiss…" she begged and he stood unmoving. He just looked down at her…his face slowly becoming that shielded poker mask she'd seen the day they met. "Please, Arthur. Give me a kiss…" she quoted again and rubbed her thumb along his neck. But he stepped away. It broke her heart…"My God…" the realization in her voice was unearthing. "I don't even know who you are anymore. Fischer changed you. "

Arthur's own eyes threatened to overflow through his walls.

"I was so ready to marry you, Arthur. I wanted so badly to have your baby. I wanted to make you happy , we were so in love and he just ripped it all out from under us."

He couldn't look at her; it was slowly ripping him to shreds to do so. He had to avoid the brown pools of eyes that fascinated him and settle for nodding his head solemnly. He acted as if he hadn't heard a word she'd just said and simply stated as he made his way back up the stairs, "I wish you all the happiness in the world, Ari."

Ari…His nickname for her. She buried her face in her hands and began heaving. A few seconds later, her and Eames heard the quiet click of their his bedroom door close. Eames had to practically carry her limp, sobbing body out of Arthur's flat and into his car.


	20. How The World Ends

Would just like to thank everyone that gave this story the light of day. And special thank you's go out to the reviewers/alerters since last chapter: _cinematherapy, Anonymous, _and _Moviefanatic2.0 _  
It's been a pleasure. Warning: this is insanely short.

**Chapter 20: And This Is How The World Ends.**

**A year and eight months later.**

Ariadne walked the corridors with her new employer. She'd taken up a job with a major company and the lead extractor was giving her a tour of their quarters. Each member of the team had their own office. They passed by a red head, getting water from the fountain and he pointed out, "That would be our forger, Mr. Andrews." The Architect nodded politely at him as they continued. The extractor stopped by the chemist's room and his own office, showing it off to her. They passed the kitchenette he informed they would be privy to and then opened the door to a pristine looking office.

"And this is our Point Man."

Ariadne's lungs stopped functioning. She stared at the top of his gelled head, glued to his computer. "Arthur this is our new architect—" The aforementioned looked up from his laptop and gaped.

"Ariadne…" He whispered. It was like he'd seen an apparition. The Point Man fished out a red die from his pocket and rolled it two, three times on his desk before daring to look at her again.

"You two know each other?" The extractor looked between the both of them.

Nodding, Ariadne numbly explained, "He was the Point Man on my first job…He taught me how to dream."

The extractor was completely oblivious to the tension filling the small office and so brightly said, "Well, I'll let you two catch up."

Arthur watched the door close. He tried finding his voice but it was scratchy and dry. He forced out, "I guess the nightmares are gone, then?" He closed his laptop slowly and stood.

"Yeah. Um. I stopped seeing my psychiatrist and I don't need Eames anymore. I, uh, live by myself over in that new residential area, Au Pair. You?"

Arthur's aura was cold. Like they were old acquaintances who hadn't seen each other since they parted ways at LAX after the Fischer job. "When I'm not traveling I still reside at the old place."

She nodded understandingly, "And _your_ nightmares?"

The Point Man avoided her eyes, "I still have regrets that haunt me."

"This is my first job since…everything." She confesses. Her look was hesitant, her voice timid and far away, "I took it to get over you…"

Arthur's eyes gravitated to hers and she confessed further, "I've missed you." His eyebrows furrowed and he rounded the desk to stand in front of her. "I've missed you so much, Arthur. You have no idea. I put pillows on the other side of the bed so it feels like you're there. I-"

"I've missed you too." Arthur shook his head. "It was all my fault," he declared, "Eames didn't take you away from me. Neither did Fischer or Browning, I did it myself. I pushed you away instead of being there for you. I'm so sorry, Ariadne…" He wanted to touch her, to run his fingertips down her arms and entwine their fingers. To breathe in her scent again, feel her hair tickle his nose again. He held himself back, though. "If I could do it all over again—"

"Me too." Ariadne did what he had been too afraid to do.

She cupped his face with her left hand and he could feel something foreign. Something that wasn't her skin. Arthur's stomach did flips as he imagined it being her engagement ring. He was too impatient to wait and find out, he slid his hand to cover hers and felt for himself. The familiar middle gem, the miniscule diamonds on the sides, the thin band…the hope of a second chance. "I should've never doubted you, Ariadne. I wasn't in my right mind." Their hands intertwined with each other's and she brought her head to rest on his. "I trust you more than anyone."

"Forget about all of it. None of it matters anymore…" She traced the lapel of his jacket with her free hand and his free arm took its rightful place around her waist.

"Is it too late to beg you to come home to me, Ari? Let's pick up where we left off." He whispered, their noses brushing tenderly.

Tears welled in the Architect's eyes as she shook her head, "I told you I'd always love you…"

Arthur's hand anchored her neck, "Quick, give me a kiss." He crashed his lips onto hers. Their hands released and wrapped around each other as they deepened. Ariadne melted into him. Her body a perfect fit, the puzzle pieces put back together, filling every space between them. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be whole and happy. He forgot what it felt like to surge with bliss. He forgot what it felt like to have love for Ariadne seep out of his every pore at the very touch of her. You couldn't count how many times he'd sighed 'I love you' into her. How many of her tears he tasted.  
**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Arthur, stop."

He chuckled, "What happened to 'pictures are frozen memories'?"

"That's when I'm not sweaty and gross…"

"Nonsense." He snapped another picture and then kissed her forehead, "You're always my beautiful wife." Then he put his finger in the hand of the little figure she was holding and it curled its hand around it. Ariadne lay in her hospital bed, cradling their newborn. The baby was sleeping peacefully and angelically. The Point Man analyzed the baby's features, the already long eyelashes, wisps of light brown hair and the cream skin. "He looks like you…has your nose too." He kissed the architect's nose proudly.

Ariadne lifted the baby's body a little and changed her focus, "What do you think, baby, does Xavier look like me?"

"No mommy, you're silly. You are a pretty girl; baby Zavier is a boy!"

Ariadne giggled and shared a glance with Arthur. The Point Man's logic had seeped through to their first born and he never let his parents forget it. The architect nodded. He took the baby from her and began swaying back in forth. He made sly eyes at the architect and smirked that way that never failed to give her butterflies…two babies later. "I want a little girl next."

Ariadne was tickled but feigned rejection, "Hey now Mr. Greedy, I just had a baby. We're not bunnies…you have to wait a couple years again."

"You hungry?" He asked after laughing with her. She nodded and Arthur kissed the baby's forehead and placed him in his own spot near her bed. "Strawberry?"

"Please." She batted her eyelashes.

"Come on, Dominic, let's go feed Rex and find mommy more Jell-O." The Point Man ruffled the four year old's hair.

The boy smoothed his hair and whined, "Dad!"

Arthur and Ariadne watched as the little boy carefully collected and stacked his coloring books and slipped them in his suitcase looking book bag. He'd begged for one like Daddy's. His parents shared knowing, amused looks with each other. Ariadne always teased that their son was going to be even worse than Arthur in the OCD department but she secretly loved having a baby Arthur to dote on. Dominic then put his markers in their box and laid them inside. Lastly, he stuck his toy train in the pocket and closed it. "Ready to go." He stood and looked expectantly at his father.

Arthur smirked an, "Ok," and fixed the position of his son's clip-on bowtie. In response, the boy straightened his sweater vest. "Love you," Arthur cooed and kissed Ariadne's lips.

"Love you."

Dominic stood on his tippy toes and strained with puckered lips. The architect lowered her head so the little boy could leave a sloppy wet kiss on her cheek and say, "I love you, mommy."

"Love you too, Dom."

He grabbed his dark red stuffed dinosaur, gifted by his favorite Uncle Eames, and stopped by the baby's hospital crib. Again on his tippy toes, he kissed the glass. "Bye little brother!"

Arthur smiled down at his son and took his hand, winking at Ariadne before they disappeared into the hallway. She watched her two of three boys go. The taller one, a suited Casanova. His hands capable of being ruthless and controlled for holding guns. Yet, capable of being gentle and comforting for holding their children's hands. The smaller one, adjusting his pace and steps to match that of the father he idolized. A little suitcase swinging in one hand and a stuffed animal safely tucked under the arm of his other. Sensing her, like his father could, Dominic James looked back and beamed at his mommy before turning the corner.

She tipped her golden chess piece and watched it fall with a thud on the table beside her. Sometimes reality is worse than a nightmare but sometimes reality turns out much better than a dream.

Xxxxxxx

Thanks again! Now I can focus completely on Follow the Red! Yay! And for anyone curious, I have a picture of "Dominic James" (A/A's firstborn) on my profile. He's so cute.


End file.
